Balagan- arabic slang meaning 'a mess' or 'chaos'
Yalla Balagan, two of the most powerful Israeli words, that arent even hebrew. Meaning '!!lets go crazy!!'.
<To be used in any manner, form or environment. To be used wisely.>
I also learned the word for bathroom, which seems to be the same word as taxi. "sherutim". I think it literally means service, but its great to muddle up. The other word for toilet means "the house of use". All these ways and means of getting around stating the actual issue. Polite, politically correct. Like many things here.
Nothing is taken lightly. Racial jokes are not as amusing as in South Africa.
For a few days, very little happened. But I kept on keeping on, and eventually the weekend came around, as it does, a day earlier. As I had attempted to prepare myself before this journey, by Reading Dr Seus's 'Oh The Places You'll Go!' book, I knew that “All alone! Whether you like it or not, alone is something you'll be quite a lot!” But its still a bit harder that I'de ever thought. For those (two) of you using my blog to answer questions about your own forthcomming gapyears away, it is something I think I need to talk about. I skyped my best friend in South Africa, and had absoloutly nothing to say to her (becuase there was too much to be said), and our small talk brought the prickle of nearly-ears to my eyes. Because it was suddenly too much, to be able to talk to someone I needed to talk to. I'm on a balancing beam, where I havent yet lost my cool. Getting lost is sometimes fun, and watching people interact with the people in their lives is one of my favourite things to do. And commuting to work and back is always an adventure. And being myself in an unfamilar environment is what I'm here for. But sometimes, it is hard,you know. And sometimes I have to push myself to keep on keeping on. And to go out and Do, and Make, and Find, when all I might want to do is curl up and think nostalgic thoughts. But I kept on keeping on, and eventually the weekend came around, as it does, a day earlier. Always something to be greatful for in the holy city.
Friday morning, at 5am I awoke. And considering I'de gone to sleep after midnight the night before, shit was getting spiritual already!
We went to a friday morning serive at the Kotel, the Wall, one of the holiest sites for the Jewish People in Israel. Its right by the Dome of the Rock infact, (one of the holiest sites for the Muslim People). I'll add pictures soon. The Wall is divided in half (and by half I mean if one half is more equal than the other) by a little wall, and men can stand and pray, and read Torah, and sing, and do anything they need to to connect to their Judaism, or G-d, or to study and learn and pray. The Womens side is for this purpose too, although they cant do things like read Torah or sing in the company of men. Here's the interesting thing for me about being in such a scandalous environment. On the one hand, its easy to be displeased by the policies of the country, but on the other, I am really inspired by the movements that work at righting the wrongs. That really do Do things, to make some change. Women Of the Wall, the organization that runs these women, demonstration services,is hella cool. And the whole thing was really fascinating. I was having a super religeous, spiritual experience; every time I looked up from my prayer book, there was this ancient wall, filled with the prayers of hundereds of thousands of people, a wall that had stood despite hardcores efforts to destory it, and there I stood, with all these Jews, reform, conservative, orthodox too, and probably even secular (there more for the cause, than the service). Really part of something. And at the same time, wasnt the religeous experience toned down by the fight; or the demonstration weakened by the incentive to pray...
We all fell asleep on each other on the bus on the way back to my side of the world
My sister and friend (the usual ones I spend weekends with) were to come and see my life for a change, and were spending Shabbat in Yavne.
It was lovely. Great food, good to be with my cousins (I'm finally getting really into this whole family thing.) They all teased/pittied us for being such boring such boring teenagers; not going out, being super-tired-and-ready-for-sleepies at 9pm. Some how even ended up drinking Arak and Vodka with my relatives. Maybe to try to provide us with some real teenage experiences? It was great.
And then, on the day of rest, we got our first rays of sunshine lying in the garden, watching the little cousin-toddles. Mmmmmm vitamin D boost-yalla balagan!
And eventually, out for adventures!
·
Ate icecream and frolicked in the sunset at the
Tel Aviv Port. Its crazy how alive and hyped and ready one feels walking around
the city on a warm day!
·
Then went to the actual sea. Took our shoes off.
Played in the amazing seaweed-moss covered rocks. Orgasmic on the toes. Real
Joburgers, go apes-shit at the sea. We were satisfied already. But more was to
be done. Yalla, down Dizenghoff Street.
·
Stopped for a tiny bowl of soup at this
super-trendy bistro. Took hours to order as we were practising our Hebrew, and
befriending the waiter. (This is a trend, why are the only people I befriend
people who are paid to serve me…. Hmm, something to worry about??)
·
Anwyays, it was delightful, and soon Shabbat was
over, and the people came out and filled the streets.
·
We stopped at a supermarket or three. Purchased
some food we could actually afford. Fruit, and a cake to go eat with out
coffee. It was a brilliant idea, and we looked forward to this coffee. But it
took its time in coming.
·
Pulled out the map again, to keep on track from
Dizenghoff to Rothschild Boulevard, and just as we reached our destination,
loud pumping drumming sounds hit us, and police lights flashed, and we ran to
take a look.
·
A Protest! And one right up my alley. It was
against deportation of children of migrant workers who were being sent back. It’s
a huge issue, and one I will cover sometime here, when I’m less tired. We
marched, and chanted, and even worked out what we were chanting. And met up
with some people from work, who we walked back to Rothschild with. A long walk
back, but a good one.
·
And so, hours later, the cappuccinos on the
grass on the pavement were the best treat in the world. And a good way to close
a lovely day.
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