Football with the ‘Boys

Quite a number of expats work out at the same gym as me. Completely American with no connection to Israel or the Jewish people, these men stand out like sore thumbs in this city filled with people from every place you can imagine. Even the Southeast Asian workers fit in more than they do.

I have made friends with some of these guys, in the gym. I’m not really sure why – they tend to stick to themselves – some combination of fluent English, my serious approach to working out (unlike most Israelis who seem to approach it as more of a social exercise) and not looking down on them for not being Jewish or interested in Judaism. Maybe.

One is already quite a good friend. Last night, I gained a few more when I went to eat barbeque, drink beer and watch football. It was me and five of them, all of whom I recognized and two of whom I would already consider kind-of-friends. They tracked the stats online as we watched, swore like militarymen, talked shit about a girl who one of them had been involved with and was now trying to extract himself from, and talked shit about each other and the other guys they work with. One spent the first hour quietly reading a playboy cover to cover, then dozed as he watched the game.

It was so much fun. In the beginning I asked if I was allowed to ask questions and was told, “It depends on the question. Ask and we’ll let you know if it’s better to keep your mouth shut.” I kept my mouth shut.

I miss things like this, just hanging out without politics or religion being discussed or even mentioned. When I moved here part of what I loved (and still love) about it is that people know about issues, and they care, and they can and will discuss it whenever, wherever. But there is something to be said for being able to just let it all go, watch the game and talk as much bullshit as you can about everything. Oh and I am proud to report that I even know who won (Green Bay) and that I asked an intelligent question about lateral passing! I don’t remember the answer.

white rice and ketchup

Back when I was living in the dorms, sometimes I would just have white rice and ketchup for dinner. Either that, or Lucky Charms. (It wasn’t the healthiest of times in my life.) While I have moved on to exploring actual food groups, the rice and ketchup combo remains a comfort food for me.

Big times are coming up in my life. New job(s), visiting the US for the first time in over a year, and the biggest: I’m moving in with my guy.

This is a good thing. It is also huge. We have not been together for very long, but it feels… right. Of course, there are a million concerns – is it too much too soon, what about when we fight, how are we going to handle the financial burden, what if he decides I’m too much (or not enough), what if (enter any paranoid and/or valid thought here), etc. It still feels right.

There has been some friend drama. I messed up telling one of the dearest people to me, and I can’t make it better. But we will be ok, because our friendship is more than my fuckup. And I’m glad. I’m going to need all the support I can get!

I’m happy and scared and excited and cautious and everything all at once. It’s a tumultuous time for me.

So I had white rice with ketchup tonight. And everything’s gonna be all right.

head over heels

and going up North this weekend

A time of celebration

It is holiday time – I turned 24, my 2 best friends also had their birthdays, it was the Jewish new year and now Sukkot is coming, which means a week and a half off work!

Life is good.

Panama, Chapter 2

We left bright and early for Coronado. Again, we were told to turn right at the Shell station. Again, we didn’t and found ourselves in the same happy barrio from the day before. Eventually we made it out of the labyrinth and onto the Bridge of the Americas, which goes over the entryway to the canal. According to our maps (all of them), we were now on the road that would take us all the way to our next destination. It was a very nice road. But not long into our journey, there appeared a little hiccup – a detour. No problem, we thought. It will just go around the block and we’ll be back on this beautiful cross-country highway. But the new route did not lead back to our beautiful road that was clear and direct. We continued passing colorful houses with chickens in the front yard and surrounded with jungle. Were we getting lost somewhere in rural Panama? Were we still on the accepted detour path? How could we tell, since we knew by then that the maps were totally unreliable?

And so we continued happily on as a family, recognizing that we might be heading in the absolute wrong direction. Maybe we were on that tiny parallel road that appeared on some of the maps we had. Hopefully. If not, it was a good thing we had a full tank of gas.

We passed through a town for which there were no signs about the time when the guidebooks said we should be passing through the largest city between Panama City and Coronado. It looked like a… not very large place.

Eventually we did make it back to the highway and to the place we were staying in Coronado. Surrounded by mango trees, the hotel was beautiful. There was a pool by the restaurant in the main area, and hot tubs peppered throughout the grounds. We put our things in our room, put on our bathing suits, and headed straight for the shuttle that took us to the beach.

We spent the next few days hanging out by the pool and playing water volleyball. We searched unsuccessfully for surf. The ocean was flat as a pancake. My dad, sister and I spent hours looking, and never found it. We did find an American couple who had lived in Panama for most of their lives and were already drinking rum and cokes at 10:30 in the morning or something like that.

Another day we headed to the other side of the highway and up the hill to a village called El Viaje, where we expected to find little touristy knickknacks and good coffee. We came upon a sad little open market and not-so-great coffee, and an Asian woman who spoke to us in English. She led us to a family that did horse riding tours of the area – on the smallest horses I’ve ever seen. No worries, it didn’t break when I sat on it. Mine was named Mantequilla (butter in Spanish), sweet little beautiful thing that she was.

The minute we headed out, it started to rain. Panama is on the equator so it was warm and the rain just added to the special atmosphere. We went up the road and into the jungle. We forded a stream and went onto a little trail, surrounded by every shade of green there is. As we returned to our starting location, our guide (aged about 15) got our horses to gallop to the end. It hurt my bum. But it was fun!

Coronado was beautiful and restful, but after a few days it was time to move on. And you will read about it in chapter 3 of this story…

Rubbing elbows with the rich and famous

I had dinner next to Nine Inch Nails last night. I have to admit, I was a little disappointed – I thought they were supposed to be all hardcore, and they seemed… clean, and nice and soft-spoken. Oh well.

Panama, Part 1

I intend to provide a full report on my Panamanian antics. Daily life is getting in the way, so it’s taking a little longer than planned. And I wanted to have pictures in it, but the image loader thingie doesn’t apprear to be working so you’ll have to use your visual imagination until if and when I can get it working. But I do have an outline (yes really), and will tell the story in 5 parts. Chapters, if you will. So here is the first…

Getting to Panama was a journey unto itself. I had two layovers, one in Newark and one in Houston. Unexpectedly, I had a bit of culture shock. I felt like a complete foreigner – the people looked funny to me, their apparent Americanism unexpected and noticable to me. It was very weird. However there is a meditation room in the Newark airport, and that made me smile, stop and take a picture because that’s awesome:

Finally, after flying through the night and then another one as time zones passed by, I arrived in Panama. My dad, stepmom and sister were there to greet me. I don’t have the words to describe how good for my heart it was, to see them again. It had been almost a year and except my constant references to my life that they aren’t a part of daily, it was as if we had never been apart.

That first night and the second, we stayed in Panama City. It is a crazy place, full of crazily-painted school buses declared unsuitable for use in the use that have been shipped down there and are used as city buses, a maze-like street system and construction everywhere you look. You can also pretty much always see the ocean, too, which was awesome.

The first morning, I woke up and took a peek out the window to see how Panama City was waking up, and there was a marathon going on! It was really cool, actually, because the end of it was right next to the hotel. Then I went to eat breakfast.

Since we were in Panama, the country most people only know for the canal, we went to go see the thing that made the country famous. The directions seemed pretty simple – take the main street through the city, and then turn right at the Shell gas station and follow the signs. There was just a small street to turn right onto at the Shell station and then an overpass, so we continued forward to find the big street to take us to the country’s most well-known landmark. And got lost in the barrio – the ghetto of Panama City. On the maps we were consulting, however, we appeared to be in one of the city’s most beautiful and quaint old neighborhoods. We were not.

Eventually we managed to get ejected onto the proper highway and made it to the locks of the canal, where ships are transferred from sea-level on the Pacific side to the mostly man-made lake that they cross before being transferred down to sea-level at the Atlantic Ocean. It’s pretty cool but not heart-accelerating. The pictures don’t really do it justice. But it was neat, I promise.

We had a delicious lunch (SEAFOOD! I MISS SEAFOOD! I ATE SEAFOOD EVERY DAY I WAS THERE! YUM!) and visited some other areas, trying our luck given the rediculous map situation. As in, there are no accurate maps of Panama. Even the travel books say so.

The next day we headed off to our next destination, Coronado. And for that, you will have to read chapter 2…

Live Music

Before I post the first chapter on Panama, I just wanted to make a quick note about the power and joy in live music. I went to a concert of a 15-member jazz-type ensemble last night, and it was great. It reminded me how much I love events like that. Rock on, live!

I’m baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

and working on stories from the trip. The outline is complete.

 short version: Panama was awesome, but more than anything else it was great to be with my family again. I miss them and love them very much, and it was fun times having adventures with them all over a foreign country! Details to come.

Crazy Fits and Dreamy Trips

I did a cardio marathon yesterday – 1.5 hrs spinning, 1 hr kickboxing, then another 1.5 hrs spinning – and it was great. It was held outside, at home horse ranch in the Jerusalem hills. Insane? A little. But now I’m ready for…

Panama tonight!!! I’m leaving to spend a week and a half with my dad and stepmom and sister there, and I am SO STOKED. Us, the beach and some waves is all I need. I promise to take lots of pictures and report all about it.

Yay!