The next chpater.

it's been almost four months. 16 countries (ok, including a few hours in monaca, a few hours in slovakia, and driving a few hours through lithuania). probably more than 30 cities. I took who knows how many trams, buses, metros, trains. I took 4 flights total. I don't want to know how much i spent. I carried 10kg of weight with me, which was a little too much, i realized i could do with 7. all these numbers remind me of a blindman's description to what a horse is. One would feel its ass and say "it's smooth and rounded", one would touch the teeth and say "it's sharp and rigit", one would touch the tail and say "it's nice and hairy". they are all correct, of course, but none really understands what a horse is. it's a gestalt thing, you see. similarly, though not the perfect analogy, these numbers tell about my journey, but don't convey the overall gestaltish experience. It was great. maybe because i made no preplanning, so had no plan to diverge from. or maybe just cosmic karma stuff. or maybe it's my grandfather watching over me, as my mother always says. there is a time for journeys and a time for home. a time for work and a time for leisure. sometimes they are intertwined, sometimes they are seperate.
I had a great time, and I am ready for the next chapter.

Another issue relates to identity. Seeing many people living their lives in different ways and styles, speaking a dozen languages and living in different worlds, made me realize how close we all are. We are different, but not THAT different. Quite obviously, we all want the same basic things.
I also realized my little country is not bad at all. While many countries have many things to offer, my tiny little Israel doesn't fall behind. We have been struggling for quite a while on being recognized in the hearts of people around the world, and I think we're there.
My trip also made me quite optimistic about politics as well. All of a sudden, it seems inevitable to me that things will be ok. I strongly feel we can all live together here, whatever country and whatever religion, in a country that has a historic link as a home to the jewish people, but other than that a totally country of all its citizens, a country where my prime minister can pray 5 times a day if he wanted to, and my mayor could go to church on sundays.

Also, I realized I kindda like blogging every now and then.
so, who knows, maybe i'll keep doing that.
Cheers, and thanks to everyone that has been reading.

The EuroIsraelis and the AsioItalianos

it's funny how you can pick up a country's state of mind through its public transportation. while in some countries people don't sit next to each other, in others the tram is the perfect place to beg for money, in others ticket conductors swarm the stations, and in others you can easily go without paying. in some countries (or should i say cities?) the stations are beautiful and well-decorated, while in others more functional.
In Milano i got pushed all over the place. I had to fight my way into the tram, and again as i got out of it. the ride was loud and alive. on one of the trains i took, a group of scouts got on with a guitar and sang a popular song softly. within a few minutes the whole cabin was singing.
I am not saying in israel people spontaneously start chirping the latest hits on the bus, but somehow it felt as close as it gets to israel. nice and warm (no wool hat in the winters), alive and tasty. or maybe i'm just missing home too much?
Italian is a beautiful language. My friend has excellent english, but whenever she is excited over something, whether seeing something very beautiful (que belle [i'm sure i have spelling mistakes here) or whether something bad happnes (a variety of italian words can easily come here), she can't help but say it in italian. and frankly, i wish i could too.
Italy is incredibly rich. In arts and literature, in food, in philosophy, in really cool cars, in a great weather, in the mediterrenean (a gift in itself), and with a temper. the spanish call it savor. i guess i have to visit there as well.
to contrast italy with france, I would say that every french fart is magnified and displayed as a work of art, while the average italian doesn't seem to make such a big deal of his huge, enormous country and culture. they just don't seem to live in the past all that much, you know?
five days in italy was clearly not enough. there is toscana, rome (of course), sicily, and of course the south of the boot.
I will be back Italia, beware.
peace and out.

mediterrenean beauty

the sound of waves in marseille reminds me of home. indeed, i haven't heard the Mediterranean for more than 3 months, and now it's like music to my ears. It's funny what things make us feel at home, sometimes things we aren't even aware of, like a distant taste, touch, smell or touch. and in my case, it was this music.
I was very lucky.
I have a great family here. We have no common DNA, as far as i know, but with knowing my mother for more than 60 years - you can call that family.
Marseille is as Mediterranean as france can get. there is something about this sea that makes you a little different, though i can't quite point it out. maybe it's the sun on your face, or the constant sound of waves.
we are a coutnry in our own, all of us Mediterraneans.

some more murmurs

I arrived at the train station, going from paris to marseille. this is a railway that connects the number one city with the number two city. this is a super fast train, which makes it a main lines of transportation.
there is only one language on my ticket.
there is only one language on the signs pointing to the train.
the conductors speak only one language..
the announcements made on the train during the ride are made in only one language.
here i put a sentence but i chose to delete it as children may be reading this.

The loneliest country in the world

not including friends i made such as Tibeaut and Jerome, and making terrible generalizations, because i am coming from a country that is totally devoid of problems and the people are just perfect, it seems that they are not realizing that they are just another language, and just another culture. instead, the feeling is that they are THE culture and THE language. It is not clear how they are raised with such a blunt delusional disorder, but it may be in the fois gras. cynicism aside, it's true that this place is rich with all those things that make us human. this is indeed a small super-power on this planet, i only wish they took themselves less seriously. I wonder if they realize how much this alienates them from the rest of the world. It seems that many French don't really have a second language (whatever language). They only have french, with their frenchy television and frenchy movies and books. That is great, but in this time of history – it's simply not enough.
ENGLISH is the NUMBER ONE LANGUAGE on this planet. It is spoken by 1.8 billion people, more than any other language (including chinese. google it). SPEAKING ENGLISH DOES NOT MEAN LOSING YOUR IDENTITY, and they seem to be stuck somewhere in first grade of their emotional development, not realizing that.
It seems that there is a belief that some day, pretty-soon-but-not-really-sure-when, when the US will go down, the whole world is going to start talking french. Well, this deserves a news flash – even if china is going to be the next super-power on this planet, and even if the EU itself will be the next one – french will NEVER be a number one spoken language. Ok, enough of that. I'm going to go have some delicious french food.

The city of style

ok, so i haven't posted anything here for a while, but i did scribble a few things on my laptop, so here it is:

it's hard for me to hate the french. i know, it's quite in on occasion, like having an iPhone, but i just can't.
I am sitting in a big park near the louvre watching a gigantic man screaming out commands on a group of 7 year old kids. it's a gym lesson. Why stay in school when you can train in the park? Style.
The food, of course, does not require introduction. It seems that every aspect of the culinary experience - bread, meat, cheese, wine, fish, vegetables - has been perfected and being practiced. "But le quialite is not what it used to", tells me a friend who has been living here all his life. Well, for me, le qualite is still quite good, and I have eaten a lot of things here for the first time, including fois gras. I probably won't have anymore in the near future, but it was worth a shot. and the duck (tastier that goose liver) was dead anyways.
i'm wondering how it's going to be in the land of the francs. we'll see, i guess

the luggage mafia

Getting off the plane with tired eyes, trying to figure what time it is, I am heading to the fearful zone of the luggage carusel. Will I get lucky today? Will I get my suitcase within a reasonable amount of time? Who knows. The karusel starts spinning, like the roulette of life, and i'm hoping, hoping the next bullet is for me.
no.
the next one?
no.
waiting.
Who are those people who are the first to get their bag out? Did it ever happen to you? Or to you? Are they free masons? Mossad agents? Is there a tip box for the porters i'm not aware of? Perhaps I should slip a fifty Euro bill with my passport at check in. once, for once in my lifetime I want the sun to shine on me, and to get my bag first. Or at least second. Well, tenth would also be ok.
Thirty minutes after, my bag is slowly peeking out the dragon's lair.
Perhaps next time. Who knows.