Too old (!) (?).
Too old (!) (?).
These weeks have been serendipitous in a near magical way. It’s difficult to explain. It seems to live in the air, here in Israel. Each moment, down to those green buses pulling into the stop, carries a sense of unreality, of living beyond one’s self… the moment itself carries you.
I spent Yom Kippur in Hebron, an experience I don’t think I’ll be writing much about. It lives in my heart.
It’s been an interesting few days here in Israel.
On Saturday night, I went to an Art Festival near the Old City (called Hutzot Hayotzer), where international artists displayed their wares. My favorite was the Angolan mixed-media artist who presented the barbaric and primitive elements behind our attempts at civility. It was art you wouldn’t want to hang on your wall, too brutal a reminder. Next, the prototypical Polish woodcutter, right out of Pinocchio. He was robust, sported a huge mustache and faded tattoos all along his arms. His figurines mostly depicted suffering religious people. I watched him for a while, and then he let me do some cutting. Thrill!
Aviv Gefen – wannabe rocker who wears too much makeup – performed. I stayed to watch [almost purely] as a cultural observer. Israelis rock out as Americans do, just in Hebrew. The whole scene was strange to stomach. We were just below the Old City walls, where some of the most poignant and horrific Jewish narratives unfolded, and here was just-another-rocker singing about girl-meets-boy, etc, etc, etc. It was unsettling. I left when he stripped his shirt, and slung a belt around his neck. Seriously, grow up.
Alas, no pictures. I needed a break.
Kinda slow on blogging these days. Doing the internal journeying thing and not very out there. All is good.
I’ve been taking lots of pictures lately, and enjoying the simultaneous distance and closeness that comes with it; distance because it allows me to be a viewer, a bystander, and closeness because of the momentary bond created with the photographee.
Today, I went to the shuk/open-air market in central Jerusalem. I was surprised at how many vendors, normally aggressive types, shied from being photographed. I got yelled at a couple of times. But the wink from the very kind-looking redhead at the bread shop compensated for the other drama.
Shabbat will be hectic, with many people sharing the table. I’d prefer the quiet, but this’ll happily do.
It’s been so long since I’ve posted anything, so it seems. Maybe it’s the great mental shift. I’m in Israel, peeps. Yup, the Holy Land. Taking lots of photos and breathing a different kind of air. It’s sweet, and I like it here.
Last week I went to a hippie festival on a hilltop, with an awesome view of nearby hills twinkling in the distance. The air was pungent with bbq, cigarettes (and weed). People were dressed in Woodstockian spirit…. real grunge gorgeousness, and they danced with such soul. It was a good night to be in love, which I’m not, but it could’ve/would’ve/might’ve been.