Day 52: Gyrating hips and pepper spray.

My Jerusalem home.

Yesterday when I got here I did what I planned to do today. So today I will do what I planned to do yesterday. The Museum of Underground Prisoners opens at 0900, and it is almost that. I've had a couple of pieces of toast and some tea, plus my stomach is still reeling from the french fries, so I think I'll stop there for food. I'll go there and then to the Ticho House of modern art stuff (the second half is mine). This way I'll be in the area for lunch and can have vegetarian, if they are open.

They are setting up for a concert today, but I have no idea what it is. I have to imagine that it is for tonight.
The Museum of Underground Prisoners is closed today, and I'm too early for the Ticho House. So I just started walking because I never know what treasures I'll find. How many people get to go to the Museum of Psalms? Not many, I'd venture. The artwork was okay; there were four or five remarkable pieces. But overall the place is some kind of tax shelter or something.

There were so many things to see in the city, and, just like any other city, there are the tourist things and the local things. One of my favorite spots that I came across was a gathering point. I don't know what they gathered about or even who gathers, but there were these cool signs on the fence.

So I walked and walked and walked. And somehow I got to the old city. I ended up at the Damascus gate. At first the streets were empty, and I could stroll leisurely with the few
people on the streets. Unfortunately, there were many beggars. Since I was in the Arab Quarter they were Arab women. There were no Arab men begging there. I don't know what that means, but it definitely doesn't seem fair.


But as I got to the Arab market, fuck me, it was crowded. I don't like crowds to begin with because, really, what kind of control do I have over myself much less a bunch of strangers. The Arabs were just opening up their shops, and as I went further into the Old City the crowds grew. Did you know there is something special going on in the mosques in the Old City. Neither did I! But I was literally like a salmon in a stream, and I had to go with the flow.

And as the crowd grew I went into fight or flight mode, for sure. Luckily there was a side road to take to get out of the throng. It took me towards the Jewish Quarter, where there were a lot less people, so I just meandered my way through the streets of the Old City. So from there I started making my way to the Western Wall.

So as I got closer the energy was palpable. It was definitely time to get my Holy on. But when I got there I realized that no matter where I am I can be Holy. In fact, I think there was more and sincerer prayer in the desert. Not for the other many of persons who were praying because maybe they really mean it, the prayer I mean. But it was hard to watch people dress up in costume so that their, perhaps, selfish requests could be heard by God. What, is she not listening if I pray from the commode?

Where are the chicks? Oh, over on
other side. Well, then.

Since I was already profaning what should have been sacred (according to whom), I decided I was just there for the chicks. But they put this stupid divider up because those unclean women may spoil the good prayers, you know, the man prayers.


So I got to the wall and felt for a heartbeat. Nothing. I was dead. There was nothing sacred pumping through the wall or my body. I really do believe in God because it only makes sense to me. There cannot be something from nothing, and I can follow the path of our existence all the way back to stuff like dark matter. How'd it get here? I'm fine with God as an answer.


So I was done, but certainly not with God. But done. So I walked away. I walked around the old city for about two hours--regardless of what my last post said I do get misplaced sometimes. And I found a gate by which to leave. I left by the Dung Gate and walked all the way around to the Jaffa Gate. I swear it was all uphill!


I got to see Eastern Jerusalem and the Mount of Olives. I also got to see Absalom's Tomb, which I had seen years ago. The tomb inspired a series of drawings that culminated in this 4x6 feet drawing, where I used corrosion and oxidation to make the drawing. I miss making art.

I finally made it back to the city center. It was a long walk. I started at just past 0900 and sat down to eat my vegetarian lunch at almost 1300. I had two bottles of water between the start and the finish, but I was spent. The food is from the restaurant that I found yesterday. It was a pay by weight place. I could have gotten more, and I'm sure when I go back (it was that good) that I will.

I went up to my room to rest after lunch, and I woke up around 1530. About ten minutes later the concert started. It was literally across the way from my hostel. There were thousands of youngsters gyrating to some great music. There is nothing like a techno remix of "Smack My Bitch Up" to get me going, em hmm.
So I went out into the group, or, I should say on the periphery of the group, and got me some felafel for dinner. Then I went back up on the roof of the hostel to watch the show. It was so much fun and reminded me of my dancing days. Now I cannot be touched in a crowd like that, but really, thinking back, I was never a dancer like this either. I was a guy who would go out on the floor and flail and twist and not invite others to be near me. Because of the alternative music this was fine. But there were definitely times when I got into a mosh pit. Damn it was nice to get hit!

No good concert ends without at least one arrest. Because there has been so much contention between Arab and Jewish youths in Jerusalem I expected some boy fights. I am happy to say that I was disappointed. But there was a girl fight with about four girls. Two of them resisted some officers and got pepper sprayed for their ill-advised actions. They were not happy--the girls, the officers, or the crowd around them. I guess I didn't have to get into the mix, but I'm sure Mr. Murphy would understand my concern for the youths.

Day 51: The longest day and sweetest dreams.

But not that great war movie with a fantastic opening.

I was once told by a therapist that I should not watch war movies. Sometimes when watching a movie about contemporary battles in desert settings I really do get creeped out and confused about time and space. But with older war movies I'm not moved in that way. I just don't have the experience of fighting in hedges in Germany or France. But maybe I can come closer to knowing peace if I give up all war movies? I doubt it, though.

I came to the conclusion that I was made to fight. Not necessarily with my fists and feet, although I do love that, but in life on a more conceptual and spiritual level. I'm at my most creative when I'm struggling in life. That struggle is usually with myself, and can manifest through drinking or other vices. But the struggle is important to my growth. I have learned, though, that I must temper my struggle or burn out like so many others that may create in similar ways.

I've never been closer to a human being than when I'm fighting or intimately involved, you know, wink, wink. I remember one time when I just got out of the army and was staying with my parents until I got settled. There was a trainer upstairs that was blond and cute, and my mom introduced me to her. We hit it off and then really hit it off. I remember my mom asking, "Can't you just date them?" Well yeah. But how cursory and perfunctory is a dating relationship, really? If you're going to kiss a person you have to know them pretty well.

The same goes with fighting--not the kissing part, which would lead to fighting, anyway. Once you look in another's eyes and punch them right in the face you know them. All pretenses go out of the window. And they know you, too. Souls are laid bare when flesh collides.



So I'm in Jerusalem. I got here just after 1100. My day started at 0445, so I was rough when I finally checked in at 1400. I had a long nap and went out.

It was amazing taking the train here, and I'm so glad that I did. We had to go through the mountains to get here, and seeing the city grow from the mountains was a beautiful sight.

There were even ruins that could be seen from the train.

Then I got here. I could not check in until 2, so I dropped my bags and left. After all of the hiking in the Negev Desert there was no way I was going to sit around Jerusalem, where walking is nothing near as rugged as the desert mountains.

I had a plan that tomorrow I would walk around Nachlaot, but once I started walking my feet took me there. It is one of the oldest neighborhoods in western Jerusalem. The place is mainly Orthodox Jews, of which I don't look like one. And as soon as I walked in I passed two guys who gave me questioning looks. But I belong there, too, damn it. As I passed them I heard one say to the other he's probably America, maybe Irish.



The neighborhood was so interesting. I just kept walking turning this way or that; I've no fear of getting lost. I was given this gift a long time ago, and I rely on my instincts a lot when in places I don't know. It amazes people sometimes, like Val, who gets lost going from the kitchen to the bedroom sometimes, bless her soul.

So I just kept going and going and going. I walked past so much interesting architecture and so many interesting places. And the people, well they were interesting too. There was a group of soldiers having lunch in "the field." There were lots of old dudes, too. They stared. There were young girls, who stared a bit less. But there were no middle aged women. Weird.

I turned a corner and across the street I saw this market. Well you know I had to go there. They sold every fruit and vegetable that I know and many that I could not identify. It is nice to be reminded that I know much about nothing.

I had to stop and get a smoothie because I was both thirsty and hungry. I hadn't yet worked up the courage to try to get something to eat. At the smoothie place I could identify some of the fruits' names in Hebrew thanks to my two months at the organic farm. So I ordered the melon smoothie. I was asked in Hebrew if I wanted goat or cow's milk, and, again, I tended the goats so I knew that word. I paid the three extra shekels for goat's milk.



Then I was done. Really done. I got back to the hostel a bit before two and begged to be let in. The girl saw that I was done and let me. I'm in the swankiest hostel I've ever been in. Who gets a bed like this in a hostel?

Plus there is a rooftop terrace with a garden and lots of seating and bedding. The view from up there is amazing, as the building overlooks where Jaffa and Ben Yahudu streets come together. It is a happening spot in the city center. Just amazing.

So I napped. I was down for about an hour and a half. But then I was so very hungry because I hadn't eaten since this morning, not counting my goat-milk smoothie. But I've still not worked up the courage to go into an Israeli place to order. So I walked around and looked at a bunch of restaurants without making a decision. I came upon this homeless dude who was yelling at any Arab that passed by. The entire situation was sad. A group of Arab youths was sitting near him and he let them have it. I had no idea how to implement justice there. Why is he homeless and deranged and why are these Arab children so bad?

Oddly enough a Pride Parade went by.

A dude was also watching, and he was as dismayed as I was. I noticed him seeing me and he asked in Hebrew if I preferred English or Hebrew. I said that I spoke English very well. We talked about the situation a bit, and we talked about one another. He comes from Boca Raton, FL, but now lives here in Jerusalem. He is a floral designer, and now that I think back to the conversation and the bright pink shirt I was wearing I think that I almost had a date.

But I got a veggie burger instead.

I don't know when the last time I had french fries was--or a burger for that matter! They must have known how hungry I was because they put two patties on it. The whole meal was under $15, so WooHoo! I'll be eatin' good.

After all of that I had to go rest again. But I went back out there because I was revved back up. I don't really think I needed that second helping of french fries, though. I do think I will be paying for them at some point because going from organic fruits and vegetables to french fries just doesn't seem like the best option. I think I'm fat again!

I did find a vegetarian restaurant that I will try tomorrow if I'm in that area. The night life here is incredibly vibrant. There are street performers everywhere, and the people watching is the best I've had since, well at least before since Ezuz in the middle of the desert. I watched a violin player play for over thirty minutes. He had some loop going with Israeli music and he was just playing along. It was amazing!

I was walking around lamenting the french fries that I had just eaten and came upon this free concert. What a treat! The first song that I heard was in Hebrew, and there were belly dancers to accompany it. Then there was a Spanish song with flamenco dancers. Then the music moved back and forth between Mediterranean and Spanish with way too many dancers moving in loving ways--just beautiful. I'll have sweet dreams tonight, for sure!