It’s officially the last week of my 20’s. Wow. You know, I think I’m ready. Well, you have to be. But it’s OK. Really. It’s getting a bit easier to have a good time. Really.
Today — I started out with another wine tasting — this time at a big theatre in Tel Aviv for an event, an awards ceremony for PR professionals, of all things (my former profession, one of them, stateside). I served 400 people the Gamla Sangiovese 2006. A very decent cup a joy.
Then I joined friends for an impromptu late-weekend-breakfast at a city center bistro.
Then I went home for the flash of an eye…before going to a friend of a friend’s beachside birthday party…which turned out to be more like…hanging out with some way-too-mellow beach bums, doing close to nothing. Ya. But I warmed to the idea. Finally. Because it was so incredibly beautiful. Just before sunset. On what for Israel is an exceptionally empty beach. It could have been Goa. Seriously. Wide expansive beach with small dunes. Tents and tarps set up here and there with straw mats and mattresses and tables laden with comfort food and bottles of beer and arak. I didn’t have a swim suit (silly me wore a dress and jewelry thinking it’s a Friday night birthday party…), but I was convinced by the crowd and borrowed a spare pair of swimming bottoms from the bday girl, and I went in my bra… And the water was warm and calm and soothing… And absolutely NO jellyfish, usually a complete bummer for Israeli beach summers which makes it close to impossible to go into the water. It was liberating. I have always wanted to go swimming and prancing about in my underwear. It’s really different than with a bathing suit. Something about it not supposed to be seen usually. And I felt pretty. Really pretty.
Age is pretty irrelevent. Life goes on. Always goes on. And despite it not being “productive” I had a pretty full and pleasant day. And I discovered a pocket of Israel that looks just like Goa. Where you can relax. And simply be.
It’s 12:18 am, and I’m nearing being done with the packing and cleaning and bill paying…but not quite enough to feel comfortable. Why am I blogging, might you ask? Well, I’ve decided not to sleep, what with a cab coming in 2.5 hours, and I’ve got much on my mind.
First off, some articles really worth taking a look at. Important and interesting stuff that I’ve not noticed on the big radar:
Keith Olbermann: “President Obama, You Are Wrong” – A very powerful video, well written, moving rebuke on the president’s decision not to prosecute CIA interrogators for torture. Want a very compelling argument on learning from our mistakes lest we be doomed to repeat history? Watch this!
Modern life’s pressures are hastening human evolution – That’s right, we’re not done evolving. We’re actually speeding up. So much so, that in 10,000 years or less, the then-humans may not even be “Homo Sapien” any longer and could not interbreed with current-day humans. Read this article. Very cool. Very intriguing.
OK, now I really have to get back to doing things other than blogging, listening to Susan Boyle for the umpteenth time, and get on with the packing, bill paying, Italian train time table finding, airline ticket confirming business I really should be up to. I fly in less than 6 hours! But the thought of being away from a computer for three weeks…well, except for internet cafes, and the like, is kind of daunting…no, it’s also liberating. The 100-day marker is coming very soon for me. 100 days until my 30th birthday. The more I blog, the more I live, really, and spend time with good people, the more I understand how silly and pathetic this countdown is. Right now, it’s a great device. I would be lying if I said I was cool as a cucumber about this birthday, but I’m much better about it. I’m working on me, and that’s all that counts. I’m doing OK. More than OK, really, depending on the day and how I look at it, really. And enough with this pep talk! Tomorrow night, with any luck, I will be sleeping in some gorgeous little B&B on the Amalfi Coast. Aren’t I a lucky duck. So what if my savings will be blown to high hell, soon. How many people go to the places they want to go? Not enough, that’s for certain.
I’ve had my grace period. It’s time to open mail, clean house, get a business plan, write, shower. Open the GD datebook. I think I may even have scheduled a doctor’s appt for today, like a month back, and goodness knows that I should friggin know about it.
So here is the challenge. Being productive and adult without having the external structure of a boss and a job and deadlines for other people. Now, I have to make deadlines for myself. I was reading my friend Julie’s blog today, and I was so homesick and envious of just warm and normal and organized lives. There are some comforts I just don’t have, even the material ones. I don’t have parents nearby. I don’t have a TV. Procrastinating at my house is just as pathetic as can be. OK, I’m going to make a list. I really really need one. And I’m using this blog to do it, apologies to all, as I can’t even seem to be able to find paper and a pen to do this. All I got’s a computer in front of me, and I need something to kick my ass into shape about all of this. Go, go, go! Ugh.
Open mail – assess the damage, aka bills, bank statement, letter from former company showing what I’m owed, what I need to sign, etc.
Eat breakfast. There’s yogurt and brown bread and fruit in the fridge. And if you’re needing it, some bleu cheese and nutella. So go eat!
Shower. There may even be hot water all ready for you, so just do it.
Finances. Write the email to the CFO of former company in order to settle your severance. Just do it. Go to bank and see what the damage is. Create a budget for the month and up to six months. It will be OK.
Bituach Leumi. Yes, social security. Go to them. Wait in line. Figure it all out. See what you owe. Tell them you’re unemployed. Find out your break for that. See if you’re eligible for unemployment, as there is actually a chance for it. As it’s probably too late to go today already, as it’s 9:30 am, you write it in ink for Tuesday.
Manuscript. Get it printed. Get to a cafe with your newish laptop. Read it. Start revising and writing up a storm. You must do this. Today.
Food career. Send resume out for the vegetarian kosher personal chef advert you saw. 4 days a week making lunch and dinner for two is a fab part time job. DO IT. Get business cards made. ASAP. Need it this week. Figure it out. What am I now. Chef and Writer? Writer and Personal Chef? And it means completely updating personal website for business purposes. Ee Gad! Just do it.
Therapy. After financial assessment, assess whether you can still afford a private therapist. You need it, but it might be time to buck up and go to the kupat cholim for help.
Friends. Call regularly. Catch up on email. You can do this. It isn’t even painful.
Ireland. Can I go for A’s bday in a month? Go to student travel agency and see if they can do better than $520 after tax, as that’s what expedia is saying. If I can go for around $450, I’d do it. And think of this idea…maybe you can even convince current brand new boyfriend (can I even call him that) to come with me and use it as a romantic weekend away…It will be expensive. $520 is best price. Wow.
Italy. Need to start budgeting. Great that parents have purchased a cruise, but I have to get myself to Venice in order to board the ship. Also tackle this hurdle at the student travel agency, god love ‘em. Also so expensive I want to puke. $620 is best price. Ugh.
Write mom a thank you note for the lovely fake Ugg boots which I will not be removing from my feet this winter, and the two science fiction novels she sent me…as well as the old hand me down computer she gave me…saved me a few hundred bucks. This will take like 30 seconds so do it now!
Clean the house and tidy after the cats. If you do a little all the time, it’s easier in the long run.
Deal with the clothes in the bedroom. Hun, you’ve been home nearly a week. Well, no, 4.5 days. But still. Gotta really unpack and deal with problem of the huge pile of clothes you left on a chair. This house is not big enough.
Spend quality time with your sister! She’ll be back from Rome in 45 minutes. Shower her with your love and ridiculous amounts of presents from India!
India photos! Assess and upload for goodness sake. If anyone’s read to this point, would love some recommendations on free websites and/or software for dealing with thousands of photos that add up to about 7 gig. I’m not kidding.
Post office. Send J her gift and R your Lonely Planet India. Easy as pie. Just need addresses.
Read/watch some news for god’s sake. See if any of your friends have gotten drafted yet. None yet, but probably…I’m keeping fingers crossed my sister doesn’t get called up.
Buy an adapter for the new computer
Buy a cat post for those sharp clawed beasties to scratch. They lost interest after an hour…fuck! Maybe I should smear it with food or something.
OK. That’s not so bad. Really. Today, I think I’ll get a few of these done. Maybe not the most important ones. But several is great. I think I’ll go eat and shower and get out of the house, with the laptop in tow, to find a printer and an internet cafe, maybe downtown, so that way I can go to my travel agent at the same time. And going downtown makes me feel like I’ve done something with my day. Gone somewhere. Seen things. It’s all good. And of course, I’ll see my sister this afternoon or evening. I will shower her with stuff. It will be OK. Yes it will. I can do this. Yes I can. Now go. Go! Go do it already. OK. OK. I will. Now.
I’m back in Tel Aviv. I can’t believe my Indian adventure was over. It was as rought getting out as coming in, I tell you. Stuck in Mumbai rish hour traffic for 2.5 hours (!!!!) on the way to the airport (what was a 45 minute drive ordinarily), thought I was going to be refused check-in, and when I did get there, they charged me for overweight baggage, something that has never happened to me, for 6 lousy kilos! I fought them tooth and nail, repacked 5 times, shifted weight…but the bitchy attendant said, after all my repacking ordeal, that it made no difference, because if I took it as hand luggage, the weight was still there, all the same. I really lost it, told her to give back my bags, that I was going to make some phone calls. After several attempts to reach my dad Stateside, he said there wasn’t much I could do, could I repack an extra bag, to which I responded, already did that, the lady is just a bitch. Finally, I calmed down, still fuming as I was, and gave up, apologizing briefly to the lady, and I paid the nearly $100 extra for the 6 fucking kilos. I would have understood it had the flight been overbooked, that they were looking for a way to cut down on eight, etc, but the flight was empty, so much so that I had my own row to stretch out in. Bitch. Couldn’t have cut me a break.
I am proud of myself, though. I stayed calm in the cab. I never let my heart race. I never cried. And when I knew I was fighting a losing battle, I threw my hands up, and paid up. I never yelled, I never cried, I never panicked. I took care of myself and stayed pretty damned rational. I kept asking myself what the point would be in losing it, I went over in my head what things I did have control over, and what things I didn’t. It’s amazing. Therapy actually works, and works well, after a while.
I can’t believe I’m back. It feels surreal. The trip felt like 6 months, not 1 month. And my apartment feels alien. Smaller. Dirtier. But it’s OK. It’s starting to grow on me again. I just have to use my amazing therapy skills to hold on for the next few days, especially, and the coming weeks. I’ve got a big job ahead of me, prepping my manuscript and starting a business. And the smaller stuff. Staying calm. Staying adult. Managing my finances. Not falling into depression. Keeping up with friends in a constructive way.
Today’s goals: unpack (really unpack), and pick up the cats from my sisters. Both much larger tasks than meet the eye. I’ll need a car for the cats, and I’ll have to beg a family member or friend for an hour of their time to do this. My sister’s moody roommate asked me to remove the cat-box tray as well, which will require more time if it’s full and needs to be cleaned. Ugh. I don’t quite see the point. But I am looking forward to the kitties being back. After the house is ready for them. And I don’t want to open the luggage quite yet. Give me an hour or two. A nice long bath. Another nap. I’m exhausted.
And then there’s the war. I have no idea what’s going on except it’s all over the news. War is such nonsense. I hope it stops soon.
And the new year. We don’t really celebrate here, which is a relief in a way. Jewish new year takes precidence in the autumn. But it would still be nice to be out and about, or at least with a friend or two. I’m looking forward to seeing the guy. The guy. I’m wondering about the effectiveness or stupidity of maintaining the anonymity of this website. The majority of the people reading know who I am. But for those who don’t, I really don’t want my name, even my first name, splashed all over the place. And I certainly don’t want the people I write about identified. But I’m sure some of them, if they haven’t discovered it already, might actually, and know I’ve mentioned them. It takes away from my own anonymity, if the people I write about know that I am. It’s not a diary anymore. And I have to be more and more careful. And I think it’s time to assess what my goals are here. Should I be using this blog as an emotional release? It feels good to do it. But I don’t want to hurt or expose anyone. Ugh. I just want the man to call me. That’s what. And I should just pick up the phone and call him. I’m such a loser. I’m such a loser. Dating, mind games, bla, bla, bla. It’s as if I still am not convinced that anybody would ever want me. Which is ridiculous. But, there you go. When you’ve never had it, it’s hard to accept. I’m going to stop. This is all exhaustion speaking. And my friends may be reading…
Enjoy this mad video. I had a revelation at a book stall in Mumbai on the street in my last few hours doing some shopping. All of our collected human knowledge, all of the beautiful books, our scientific discovery, the great works of art, our agriculture, our cities, our cuisine, our traditions, technology, all of the collected accomplishments of the last 12,000 years or so of our modern species mean absolutely nothing, should we perish. When we seek fame, we seek admiration from our fellow humans. When we seek fortune, we seek profit from human markets, by selling to humans. When we seek to entertain, we entertain humans. When we love, we love humans and receive love from humans. We are social in every way. Even antisocial people are antisocial in antithesis to a society, without which this person still could not exist. When a baby is born, the process of educating her, by parents, friends, teachers, schools, television, radio, movies, and more, is actually the process of transferring our species history to her. Because each person starts out a blank slate. There is nobody alive today who existing during the French Revoltion, the 100 Years War, the destruction of the first or second temples, the building of the pyramids, the assisination of Caesar. How do we ensure that we remember these things? Because it makes up who we are. And if we were to cease existing, it would matter to nobody. Our own survival is paramount only to ourselves. Funny that it’s we who are killing ourselves. Anyway, just saw this video that’s been burning up the web. Enjoy:
I spent the day in orange makeup, a Barbie-pink ill-fitting strappy sequined top, holding a martini glass full of neon green liquid with a paper strawberry taped to it, pretending to dance and have fun at a nightclub!
So, I am exhausted. One of those days. Which is weird coming from one on the tail end of a month long vacation. I woke up at the crack of dawn to be an extra in a Bollywood film. AND IT WAS SUCH A WASTE OF TIME!!! Oh well, what can one expect, being recruited on the street for being Caucasian, female, and under 35?
But, being a smart woman in the midst of pulling her life together and making responsible decisions for herself, I convinced several other such Caucasian women to get up and leave halfway through. They didn’t pay us and didn’t help us get back to town, even though we’d done more than half the work. Oh well. I got to see a studio, see how lame it was, eat a free lunch, and still see some sunlight, some sights in town, and make something of the day.
Lovely first day. Have contented myself to only do fun easy things at the spur of the moment. Which today included getting pissed in the middle of the afternoon….but really twasnt my fault, I swear!
But from the beginning. I’m staying at a low-end midrange hotel, which means, very nice and clean but slightly shabby and slightly out of the way. However, it’s only slightly out of the way, great area for cabbing to other places within seconds…and the shabbiness is kind of…brill, really. It’s got a lovely 70s feel, all rooms have a “sitting room” area with the vinyl or woven-y furniture upholstering, a TV with only 1, count it 1 English channel (and it’s TV Australia…wow…).
This morning I met my friends, the lovely young couple from my guesthouse in Pondicherry (see that entry for more scootie-around-the-city details), at the Atria Mall, one of the poshest spots in Mumbai. All the best stores, and I mean all, from the US, Europe, and Asia, in one place. We had coffee, a snack, and did some spur of the moment shopping which involves a “Buy 2, Get 2 Free” sale at Nine West (!!!). The prices are nothing compared to home or the States or Europe. All shoes were around 2,000 rupees, which is something like $40-ish. We decided to split the deal, essentially each of us buying one pair, and getting the second free. I got two very very chic Nine Wests for $40. I am thinking of going back for a bit of a spree. There’s a Mango and a Promod and a ton of Jewelry shops. I’m thinking of getting my nose pierced and there is this darling little minuscule gold nose stud with a tiny diamond, for about $70. Ah! Bombay!
People told me I would hate it, that it’s just like any big city in India. But it’s not. Yes, yes, I know I haven’t ventured into the slums or been out of downtown much. And yes, I don’t really plan to. I’m done with it. The thing is Bombay (or Mumbai, people use both liberally) has a really cosmopolitan feel to it, very modern, very clean, very fast, sleek, fun, easy, comfortable. It’s still very India, very Asia, just more…accessible. People told me to beware…and I was nervous making it my last stop, perhaps topping an already mixed bag of a cake with an even more questionable cherry. However, I’m of the opinion that it’s an appropriate finish. I started with the old school Delhi in the north, and I’m finishing with the new school Mumbai in the south…and loving ever pint full of it.
That’s right, pint full. After the mall, we headed to a temple…another one dedicated to Ganesh…where we waited in endless cues, people selling flowers and sweets and coconuts and grasses all over the damned place…and then my friend told me to pray, even if I didn’t believe, it didn’t matter, and be sure to look Ganesh right in the eyes. And what eyes! Bright blue elephant eyes that looked right through you. Uncanny on an otherwise gaudy orange-tinged statue. And what a circus! People throwing themselves! It looked like a riot! There were even security guards trying quite ineffectively to keep the peace and succeeding only in being a human layer between the heaving masses and the three holy men/worker types taking the offerings from them and replacing them with blessed flowers, or touching the offerings to the statue and returning them, or something like that. After we got out of the nuthouse, there was an additional statue to visit inside the temple complex: a cow. I was told to whisper my prayer into one of the cow’s ears, but be VERY VERY sure to hold the other ear shut tight so as to not let the prayer escape out the other end. Fun times. My friend told me to pray fervently for a husband. I am not sure that that was the mindset I was coming in with, but hey, it’s an eventual goal, so why not. I know how much she’s hoping to marry, and soon, so I hope she got her wish.
After the temple, the couple granted my request, and we navigated our way (rather, I helped the taxi driver navigate with help from my Lonely Planet map, gotta love ‘em) to Gandhi’s home. He lived in this house and worked from this house for some 20-odd years, and it’s a priceless collection of artifacts and exhibits. His bedroom/workroom is untouched, and it’s a sight to see. I especially loved reading some of his personal correspondence. Gandhi had an ongoing relationship with Leo Tolstoy, wrote to Hitler in 1939 to ask him not to start a war (amazingly humble and sensible letter), and wrote a lovely long letter to FDR in 1943 asking him to support Indian independence, and assuring him that India would continue to support, and would better be able to support the allied efforts, as a free nation. I took lots of photos, to say the least.
Then…we headed to the Chowpatty Beach area and a local “bar and grill” type place and proceeded to drink 2.5 pitchers of Kingfisher beer, and consume some snacks of cheese toast and veg Szechuan noodles. We had a really fun time (they drank about double what I did…no, I don’t want a hangover during my last 3 days, thank you very much), and I asked loads of candid questions about relationships in India these days. Seems we in the west are not alone any more in our premarital sexual escapades, and it’s been that way for a while. All the hubbub about pre-arranged marriages is also a bit blown up. They’re more like recommendations, like, meet this guy your mom is pushing on you over Thanksgiving dinner, and if you’re both kind of OK, and you’re at the right age, why not…your parents know best…and you can always refuse. Pretty interesting stuff.
I headed off, very thoroughly buzzed, to the Gateway of India, another big “arc de triomphe” type monument, very beautiful, right on the water by the harbor. And as it was sunset, it was all glowing and pink and orange and stunning. The Taj Hotel, just bombed exactly a month before, looked beautiful again. There was a memorial going on, tons of people, great time to visit the site. And all the more moving as I was half on the moon, so it were.
I decided to walk around the area as much as I could handle, not having any other plans, until about 3 minutes later discovered I had to pee like a racehorse. Found my way to Leopold’s, the expat and tourist home of drink in Bombay. It’s been around forever, and with good reason. Had a great pee, another pint (why or why…can’t go there for mineral water, for god’s sake…), a chinese snack, and on my way out…was propositioned to be an extra in a Bollywood film on Monday! Well, as I fly away that evening, I was disappointed to learn I couldn’t participate (especially as it is with the uber-famous actor Salman Kahn..whose birthday is actually today, and I know this because it was the excuse we used for getting pissed in the middle of the afternoon). This recruiter said not to worry, they are filming a commercial tomorrow, would I be interested in being an extra in that? All transport, food, beverages, and 500 rupees in payment? Sure, why not! Well, 13 hours of work, why not, indeed. But I was told to bring a book, and that I was free to bring a camera to take shots of whatever I wanted. I’m still not sure I’ll do it…but I probably will. It’s for face cream. Maybe I’ll score some free samples, to boot…
So, there you have it. Some history, some good food, some great friends, some exquisite shopping. I’m loving Bombay, all the way. If only the incessant disco music from the two banquet parties near my room in this borderline hotel would shut down soon, I could get some decent shut-eye.
Goa is heavenly. It’s just a big beach resort, done any style you want. There’s 5 star luxury, and there are shacks right on the beach. There are commercial areas, and there are remote areas, so much so that there may only be a small handful of people, if that, and one small shack-restaurant. I was even taken by motorbike to the northernmost tip of Goa to “Paradise Beach” on an island that is reached by ferry, only, and that exists only 5 hours a day, as the tides cover the beach at other times. Never have I seen so many crabs in my life. It was a baby crab nursury.
So…I’ve spent time doing very minor sightseeing. But mostly, sitting on a beach, reading, eating, and then getting massaged. I’ve stayed in a slightly more luxurious version of a beach shack about ten minutes walk from the beach. It’s made of bamboo, the walls are woven reeds or leaves or something (light pours through little dots everywhere, it’s so lovely at sunrise and sunset), but I have en suit bathroom facilities, tiled floors, a decent bed, electricity, and a fantastic mosquito net. Thank you Avalon Inn. On xmas eve the owner, a delightful American-Austrian woman, cooked up a Goan meal for us all (all 6 of us), and it was so pleasant spending the evening talking to a middle-aged couple froim East Anglia, a Finnish architect, and a couple of honeymooners around my age from Birmingham. The best part of the meal was a green dish made out of Indian white radishes and their green leaves, all chopped and sauteed together. Scrummy. Papaya and bananas for dessert. And I drank a new beer, “Kings,” a local brew with a very strong flavor. Quite happy I sampled it, really, as it’s the best alcohol I’ve had in country.
Massage. Ayurvedic massage. It is the abolute best. Better than Thai, better than Swedish. It’s strong but not painful. It’s very complete. It assesses the entire body and soul. It’s absolutely fabulous. And a genius named Shanti has been taking me to heavenly heights over the last two days. She’s so cheerful and smart with strong hands, trained in Kerala, amazing. Ionly wish there were a way for me to get her a visa and transport her out of here…so she can make some real money…maybe even teach…as she has a small daughter than doesn’t even live with her (she’s in Delhi with a grandmother), and every cent Shanti makes goes to pay for private school fees. She’s an excellent mother, I can tell, and such an expert masseuse. Loves what she does.
That’s it. Goa.
It’s sad, though. Because of the terrorism and the financial crisis…the tourism is so low here this season. They also shut down all of the xmas and new years parties — the reason people come here. I love it, as it’s more quiet and serene, perfect for books and beach and chips and beer and fruit and yogurt and showers under the sky and massages. But the locals are suffering. Xmas is high high season…double to triple the prices. And it’s gone for the year. Makes you want to buy more, even though I shouldn’t. As it is I need to find a bag to buy today for all the souvenirs that won’t fit. I’m flying to Mumbai tonight, and I will not be the plastic bag lady. It’s just not elegant or sensible.
I spent the last 36 hours trapped in my room in a gorgeous guest house. I should wish I was well enough to see the lovely city of Pondicherry, but now all I am is grateful that I have escaped, that I’m well enough to keep the antibiotic pills down, and that they’ve apparantly started to work. It’s the first time in 2 days I’ve seen sunlight and been outside. Thank God!
I suppose it’s travellers diarrhea perhaps combined with actual food poisoning from the only meal I’ve had in this city, two days ago. The last day was spent in agony on a king size wooden bed with a mosquito-netting canopy made of pretty white lace, and local artwork on the walls, interspersed with antique furniture. At least I had pretty surroundings, right?
Those of you who have kept up with my last few posts know that I have battled off and on with this problem. But this time it was infinitely worse. Vomitting, cramps, maybe even a rash, (but I think that was more me being paranoid in the middle of it all about a mosquito in the room that was using me like a Roman banquet). All of the lovely weight I put back on in Rishikeshin the restaurant I so adored is gone. I feel skinny, but it’s not attractive and toned. It’s this weak, flabby, sick, oh god I wish I were well enough to eat pizza at Pizza Hut already. I’d rather healthy and modestly chubby than really really sick and skinny.
And I’m in Pondicherry. Lovely place. A living breathing contradiction. This place could be the embodiment of kitsch…but it’s not. It’s French AND Indian, it’s Christian AND Hindu AND Muslim, it’s very European in appearance AND it’s umistakably Indian. It’s just great. People are much more laid back and kind than up north. It’s warm (too warm for me in my sick skin…but I think the others are comfortable), the Bay of Bengal just sparkles and gleams along a kind of promenade that borders the whole seafront. The food is French-Indian fusion in many places (thank you Hotel Aristo for my food sickness — although at the time I was very happy to be there, of course, admiring the strange decor that really worked somehow — fat-bellied Chinese versions of Buddha statues alongside statuettes of European ladies with lap dogs and swans and such, gaudy French xmas decorations, and tropical plants everywhere), and I’m in a charming pseudo-American coffee house. It kind of looks like Caribou Coffee meets Key West, and it has internet! Yay!
OK– I have to leave Pondy tomorrow, and I have no idea how I’m doing it thus far…so I have to get moving to the websites of the local airlines and the train company…ugh…and maybe oh maybe visit the doctor. My whole family is urging me to go…but I don’t want to be hooked up to an IV and injected, etc, if it will take days on end (this happened to an Irish woman I was helping back in Delhi — 4+ days in the hospital she spent!).
Goa is the next stop…probably have to skip Kerala even though I have the time…I’m just too sick to go about safari-ing, taking buses cross country, etc. Need a plane, need to get to a civilized place, need to do it quickly. As for me, I’ll be chowing down on curd — Indian yogurt — something I discovered that I love and that is good for the belly!
I’m still in Rishikesh. Did yoga this morning. Nice easy session. And if I can pull myself away from this computer, I’m going SHOPPING and strolling…and I might do yoga again this evening before gorging myself on some delightfully yummy food served at my hotel restaurant. I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon, though…pooh…and heading back to Delhi (ugh! but only for one night). Booked myself a much better place to stay (much costlier), that has complimentary airport transfer (yay! no worries on getting the the airport!!!). I go to Mumbai and transfer planes there for Chennai (formerly known as Madras), in the Southeast of the country. From there I relax again, see the capital of Tamil film production, and head to three glorious days in the former french colony of Pondicherry (now known as Puducherry…which is kind of silly, I think, so I will be calling in Pondicherry, still). If I have my way I’ll be staying in a “heritage home” kind of elegant B&B, colonial home with gardens and curtains, etc, etc, etc…near the beach, near a good ashram…with excellent French food (thank GOD!).
As for the headline of today’s post? When you travel it’s easy not to look at a newspaper for a few days (weeks…), and it seems we Illinoisians are in trouble again. Why oh why can’t our governor do anything right? With a long history of republican governors, when we finally get a democrat, he has to be a sleazy slimy creep. All that business with his father-in-law before he became governor. Why can’t they do clean business? It’s as if the moment one becomes governor, the only thing that occupies your time is staying governor. Keeping your seat, fundraising. Pooh, I say. Pooh. This isn’t cool. After such an inspiring election. Shame on you Rod Blagojevich. This all makes me sick.
Glad I’m in India…in a newspaperless cloud of ayurvedic massage and cheap lovely shopping…oops, I think I need to run to the toilet again…shit! Just when you think it’s over.
-Falling flat on my face in watery cow dung on the banks of the Ganges in Varanasi, getting it everywhere, and I mean everywhere, an hour before my train
-Getting food poisoning twice in one week
-Was “picked up” or something (!?) by a man in Jaipur, seemed very nice over coffee, and then he was planning my entire touristic stay…wanting to take me to a theme park on his motorbike…at which point my mother and sisters (via frantic text messages while in the bathroom) were telling me to steer clear and not see him again…who knows whether I would have ended up chopped into little bits, raped, kidnapped, or just being proposed marriage to…but got food poisoning the next day anyway so couldn’t go…thank god!
-Sitting next to an elderly Hindu man on a train back to Delhi who was keenly interested on learning about the laws of kashrut (Jewish Dietary laws), and about the book I was reading (Bridget Jones’s Diary –and yes–he wrote down the title to pick it up for himself), and it ended up he was a retired nuclear physicist as well as a trained hotel/catering manager (trained in Switzerland!!!) who currently runs health care NGOs. Go frigging figure!
-And the icing on the India cake-the nightmare of the past 24-hours:
1) Arriving in Delhi at 11 pm, almost elbowing and fist-fighting my way through the rickshaw-wallas to the pre-paid taxi booth (they kept telling me it was closed–duh, there are lights on and people working–it’s open–and that of course 200 rupees was the fair pre-paid price–nuh uh, it cost me all of 40–booyah, score one for me).
2) Upon arriving in the neighborhood of my hotel, not being able to find it, and then when we stopped in front of a likely candidate, it wasn’t it. The kind concierge politely called my hotel, said someone was coming to fetch me. To make a very long story short, I was “generously” hosted by a suspicious family of major hotel slum-lords who I suspected were of Iranian origin and not Indian, shuttled about to three different hotels of theirs before they found me a room, at a “generous” discount (as-if), and it turned out to be disgusting, slimy, and fly-infested in the bathroom. Luckily, I had all of 6 hours to enjoy it before –
3) Heading back to the train station at 6 am, I am accosted in front of the departures board by a “good Samaritan” who looks at my ticket in horror and says, “madam, you haven’t got a seat on that train…look, it says *waiting seat*…you need to rush up to tourist services and see if there is a seat for you, NOW.” When I did, of course it was closed…and there was a chap opening some gated door, who said how can I help, and I showed him the ticket, and he said, “madam this is not good, you haven’t got a seat…you need to go across the street to counter 39 and see if there are seats available…” At this point I had maybe 30 minutes until my train was to depart. He “generously” leads me out of the station, through the packed parking lot, across the street, to some tour office…that he seems to run…calls a number, quickly slams the receiver and declares that there are no seats left on my train! I panic and ask when the next train is. He says it’s at 10 pm. Goodness what to do! He says he can arranged a government approved car to take me up to Rishikesh for 3500 rupees! AS IF! I said if I don’t have a seat on a train, I’m taking the bus! He said, “Madam, buses are very unsafe. There are cutters.” To which I replied, “what are cutters?” and he said they were people who waited until you slept and then cut your valuables out of your bag…to which I had to laugh! I had traveled all over the world, and a bus is the least likely place to get “cut.” Where would the thief go? And if all my valuables are on my person, how would he get close enough? All this time I’m in the office with him telling me there was no other way to get to Rishikesh, I’m frantically searching my Lonely Planet, finding out approximate bus times and prices, looking up where the bus station is, etc. This guy finally says, look, you have 15 minutes before the train. You could take a chance and talk to a conductor, maybe pay him another 100 rupees and see if there isn’t a way to get a seat on that train…at which point, I FLEW out of that office. I must mention at this point that all of my movements have been hampered by an enormous rucksack I have on my back. As great a bag as it is, it’s bloody huge, and it really affects my equilibrium, and steps and stairs are really hard for me. So…I’m running back to the station, performing death-defying feats of traffic dodging, recklessly flying through the dangerous queue of rickshaws, back into the station, onto the platform, racing (at my pace) up three flights of stairs to the bridge which acts as a passage to all the other platforms…to my platform…#16…the VERY LAST ONE…and when I get there, I see no train…and I think I’ve either missed it or it hasn’t arrived yet. And then I discover, panting and gasping for dear life, that I’m on the very end of the platform and that the train is smoking away about 100 meters away…running again…desperately looking for someone that might resemble a conductor or railway employee. Finding nobody meeting that description, I decide to go on to the carriage that should be mine, should I have a seat. And lo and behold, when I got there, I took a chance look at the passenger manifest which is always posted on the outside of each carriage, and there, next to seat 36 WS (waiting seat…?????) was MY NAME! Confirmed in black ink on white paper and pinned to train 2017 to Hardiwar!!! WS ended up meaning…DUH…window seat! And with two minutes before departure, I board the train.
BASTARDS!!!!
I was so relieved and thankful and all to be on the train, but also very ashamed of myself for falling for such a scam. Because fell for it I did. It was only by luck or grace that I got on that train. It was only because when it comes to transport I’ve started to drive a hard bargain and I knew that in India, nobody pays 3500 rupees for anything that they can get for 200. Not even stupid, tired, cheated lone female travelers. It would have been the bus for me, had I not been on that train.
But I got to Rishikesh in one piece. And in brief, I have started to enjoy myself in what I hope are simple and concrete ways. Fun shopping. Calm strolls. Eating and sleeping when I want. Not planning everything to the minute. Not feeling guilty for not seeing every temple and museum and point of interest there is to see. I am going to do some easy yoga in the morning, followed by a massage, and maybe more shopping (I did a ton already today in the hour I had before dark). I have a room with a gorgeous view of the Ganges, in a quiet adorable little clean neighborhood, with a fantastic east-meets-west safe restaurant. For the moment, I could not be happier than a clam in a clam bake.
I have Delhi belly. I am not having fun. I do not want to be communing with hoards of hippie Israelis. I am sick of touts. I am sick of people selling to me. I am sick of beggars.
I rather like the cows in the streets, though, and I feel badly for them for all the traffic and trash they have to live in. The goats are cute.
But I’m certainly not relaxing. Tomorrow night I head towards Agra and the Taj Mahal. Check that box. I’ve seen the Ganges, as I’m in the holy city of Varanasi now. I lit candles. Sent them down the river, of sludge and shit and mud. But I am sick, and I am not enjoying the food (American and British Indian food is superior to what I have eaten here), and I’m seriously considering changing my plans and going down to Goa and Kerala early. A beach and plenty of time to read and write sounds like a real vacation.
But really, it’s about being a lone Western female traveler. I get the brunt of the stares and the abuse. And there are days I really feel alone here. Nobody looking out for me. Women here don’t go out alone. When I landed in Delhi, there was not one woman out on the street. Not one. They travel with men, and in groups. I don’t blame them. It’s not too pretty or safe.
We are glued to CNN live. It’s a mess. What a world we live in. Rumors fly. Chabad house attacked, the rabbi and his wife alive but unconscious. Why? 17 Israelis rumored to be held hostage. Terrorists targeted Israelis, Americans, and Brits. Anything new?
What is the root of this violence? The root of the hatred? Of any hatred?
For a long time I have felt that it must be a socio-economic issue, behind it all. That it people in poorer countries were better fed, better capable of caring for themselves, had a higher quality of life, had a good and proud self image, there would be no reason to attack. That starvation and national defeat prompts religious fundamentalism, or fundamentalism at all (Nazi germany). That it leads to scapegoating. To hatred. To violent action.
But is it really?
And I sit here, in a big beautiful kitchen in Tel Aviv, making pumpkin pie from scratch, with my new haircut, my company laptop, well fed, worried about petty things only…like will I still be able to go to India come Monday. God only knows.
I can feel the wind on my neck for the first time in two years. I am slowly becoming me again. Shortish, layered, stylist, curly bob. Me.
The huge terrorist upset in Mumbai is difficult to deal with. I have always known there is terrorist activity in India. But being an Israeli, being a realist, I’ve always been rather fearless about visiting less-than-safe locations. Still, it’s bothering me. I feel horrible for those people. For the city. For the people still being held hostage. Yet. I’m going. I’m going.
Still no hotel reservation. Still no activities planned. Still have no idea which cities I’m visiting. My place of work just sent out an announcement that I’m leaving the company, and it mentioned that I’ll be traveling in India…so I’ve gotten some emails from some contributors from there. Maybe they can give me more complete insight on stuff off the beaten path. Assam, maybe. Punjab, maybe. I just can’t wait to get there. To eat good Indian food.
I have to cook a Thanksgiving dinner tonight and tomorrow. I have no menu, still. I have no shopping done.
Oh lord! My day won’t stop. I so want to go to sleep. No, it will be OK. It will be OK. One step at a time.
Excuse my using this blog as an efficiency aide, but I need help getting it all done before departing on Monday! For what else is a blog but an efficiency aide? A waste of valuable time? Never!
1) Try to leave work early
2) Turn dude on the moment you get home (dude in Hebrew means “tank” – we have to heat our water before we can, say, shower)
3) Put in a huge load of laundry
4) Attempt to clean house, definitely do the basics of sweeping, pillow arranging, clutter moving so it looks nicer, and maybe, just maybe wash the dishes
5) Buy kitten food and kitty litter. Ah! So expensive!
6) Buy a b-day gift for a stranger – chocolates will probably do
7) Bathe! A real bath, today, darling! Remember to shave and scent up and put on makeup afterward
Hang laundry
9) Create to do list for Thursday (include hair appointment, financial planning appointment – big joke on me, trip to bank to pick up travelers’ cheques, work for work on laptop, solidify menu for Thanksgiving/Turkey Shabbas, call H- to arrange potentially making pies in her kosher kitchen in Tel Aviv)
10) Go to birthday party looking amazing, smelling amazing, gift in hand, laptop in hand too (as it’s being hosted by new man in my life for a female friend of his and as the party starts at 10 pm, I’m assuming this is an invitation to stay over) so I can work the following day without having to schlep home (he’s downtown and I’m north side) before doing all the city center parts of my day.
I can do this. Laundry, sweeping, bathing. It’s OK. Oh, shoot, INDIA!
11) After the cleaning, and before the bath, get online and book a hotel in Delhi for two nights. Make sure it’s an OK hotel but in a slummy area so you can be around the backpackers and the low-to-middle end travelers.
12) Respond to the cooking schools and see if you can arrange a vague reservation.
13) Look into that health farm. Might be a stretch, but it’s worth finding out about.
14) Cost of buying a laptop in India. It might have to come down to that, honeychild. It might have to.
Oy vey. It will all be OK. Love yourself. Breathe. You’re going to India, honey, and a nice handsome man seems to like you. NO FREAKING OUT need happen. That’s right.
I got my visa!Thank you to the Tel Aviv representatives of the Republic of India!Despite making my life hell these last two weeks, you ROCK!
Please send me suggestions on stuff to do! I will be in the north for 2-3 weeks, and the south for 1-2 weeks. I want to take cooking classes and relax and meet interesting people. Comments requested! I have no reservations or plans at all…not knowing if I could go until today. And I leave in 6 days! Hurrah!
India
On another note…it’s my third to last day at work.And I have a lot of work.But I really don’t want to do it.I feel so happy and giddy inside.I’m going to India.I have projects to complete.A book to write.A new man to see.A huge meal to plan.
I’m sitting in one of my favorite Tel Aviv spots finishing off a lovely bowl of lemony black lentil and spinach soup: Dizi, a vegetarian cafe, DVD rental, and laundromat. It’s right on Dizingoff square, across from an aging cinema, a flaking fountain, and the site of the twice-weekly antiques market. It’s also around the corner from a tiny used book store that I discovered has a mega-collection of English-language sci-fi books selling for dirt cheap. Not a bad place to spend an afternoon. Oh, did I mention this cafe is also an internet place? You can rent a laptop for 40 shekels/hour, and for customers, there’s free wi-fi. What place doesn’t have wi-fi these days, of course, but still. When i arrived in Israel last year, laptop-less, it was nice to be able to rent one for a while, work on CV’s, feel normal for a change.
DIZI Cafe Interior - I'm sitting on that sofa now!
I’m working on an article that I hope will be done done done within a couple hours, so that I can treat myself to a glass of wine and chocolate cake. Ah, food. Ah, lentils. Ah, wine. Ah, life. And maybe I’ll have the courage to call the new man in my life, cutie gentleman that he is.
I got my ticket to India today, and I bought my mega huge insurance package. Now…all I need is a VISA! Please, please send good karma to the Indian Embassy in Tel Aviv, dear friends. I need all the luck in the world. One week to India…I hope…Fingers crossed!
Four people were laid off at my work.An office of 50 people.Now, closer to 43, as two quit (including me), one was fired last week.And 4 were laid off as a consequence of the economy’s effect on the company.It’s pretty somber here.One person who was let go is weighing on me particularly.I wonderful caring man.Early middle age, if I can even say that.Probably early forties.Three kids.Was always at work early.Worked hard.Very hard.Had brilliant ideas.Was a model of the kind of person that a startup should have.Gone.Where is the logic?We keep maybe 10 very young programmers whose jobs are ridiculously elusive to me, and this nice fellow has to go.
I feel extremely tired and empty today.Yes, severe lack of sleep over the weekend, really lovely, pleasant, fun lack of sleep it was.But I have so much to do this week, I want to cry.It’s still all fun.It’s still somehow manageable.But I still don’t have a visa to India.So…who knows if I can go…and whether I should even book any activities or hotels.And I have an article to finish for tonight/tomorrow-ish.An article I love to write.All about food and culture and Israel and recipes.But some time consuming concentration for a few hours is certainly required.And I have no energy.
And then there is Thanksgiving.Which I’m doing Friday instead of Thursday.Which I’m doing in a kosher kitchen in Jerusalem, a very close friend’s house.And I’ve invited some good friends and my sister, all from Tel Aviv.Not only is there the worrying about the food, the shopping, the cooking, the number of people….there’s the stress of it being in Jerusalem on a Friday!How do we all get there?Or, they, as I’ll have to be there from the crack of dawn and that’s OK.But when the buses and trains all shut down…how will I responsibly get my friends there?And will we ALL stay the night?Will they want to?Will it be OK?Will there be room?I wish I could just give them the time and the address, let them figure it out themselves, and just leave the cooking to me.Maybe it is that simple, who knows?And…it’s about 2.5 days before I leave the country (!!!) that is, if my visa comes through.
And then there’s leaving work – making sure everything is done, that the torch is passed effectively.It’s the kind, polite, good thing to do. But I’m tired and fed up.Who knows how the last scramble will be…
And then there is the new man.For the first time in a long time, I really feel a click.A nice connection.Some excitement.But because of the very strange aspects of my week and this phase of my life and the very busyness of it all, this excitement feels too sedate.I want to be revved.And of course, right about now my paranoia will kick in.Does he like really like me?Does he really?When did he last call me?Should I call him?How much should I limit my contact with him?Don’t want to appear too clingy and paranoid… And do I really like him?Do I?Is it worth this?Getting excited again?How much of myself should I stake?Is this an inevitable heartbreak…so just have fun with it…or is it actually a good thing…and I should invest as much of myself into it as possible?
But at the end of the day, he is a kind man.Smarter than I expected.More tender and caring than I had expected.And I think he is just beautiful.If he feels a fraction of this for me, perhaps he’ll wait for me to come back from India. If he feels even a fraction of this, perhaps he might have intentions bordering on serious…
Thank goodness I’m too tired to weigh in on this too much.Fatigue has its uses, too.And right now it’s protecting me from myself.
For some reason, I’m having a problem getting an Indian tourist visa.
An Indian Tourist Visa
Why? I am not a criminal. I don’t want to live there. I just want to visit. I want to eat lots of good food, and spend lots of money, and see their fancy temples and palaces and ashrams. I even want to take their cramped trains. And then I want to go home. So, I travel a lot and I have dual citizenship. So, sure, I’ve got a pretty full passport. But there is nothing wrong with me!
I had to write a letter detailing where I work and what I do and what my title is and when I’m traveling and where I’m traveling to and what I am going to do there and why I’m going there in the first place and when I’m leaving. For pete’s sake. Lord our god and god of all ages.
I really LOVE India. I have always wanted to go. I love the food, I love the people, so much so, that I there are Indian movie stars out there that I would happily give my first born child to just to meet. I have read The Ramayana. I have read the Mahabharata. I have read some modern and not-so-modern books on India. I have seen films. I have dreamed of India. Please, please, please, let me in!
Does anyone have any idea if I have a genuine reason to worry? I’m set to fly in 12 days! I need this visa!
I also just paid a fortune for anti-malaria medicine.
And I learned at a free seminar last night that I am basically fucked financially. Oy gevalt.
It’s nice that I am still relatively calm and having a nice day. Hah! I think I may have found the correct anti-depressant after all. Or maybe it’s just liberating knowing that I quit my job and will not have to do the work that I dislike for much longer.
How to get enough Vitamin D
So – Vitamin D – is REALLY IMPORTANT. And wearing sunscreen prevents my being able to create it. Because its production in my skin is triggered by UV-B rays from the sun, and it’s absolutely free. Oy vey. You’re damned if you do, and you’re damned if you don’t. I have very fair skin, and I live in Israel. So I pile on SPF 30 on my face and chest every day. Prevent skin cancer and aging, right? Essentially, the only sun exposure I regularly get is maybe on my forearms. And the thing is, we need vitamin D to absorb calcium. Without it, we can have majorly softened bones. It may also be linked to many forms of cancer, high blood pressure, tuberculosis, hypothyroidism, autism, multiple sclerosis, chronic pain, depression, schizophrenia, seasonal affective disorder and several autoimmune diseases.
This may actually, who knows, explain an awful lot. I have been wearing a high SPF sunscreen daily since the age of 20. I have prided myself on having the most wintry-white pale skin during the summer months for almost a decade. And I’ve had problems with depression off and on since then. They have suspected thyroid issues. I have suspected nerve problems (balance, numbness). It could be nothing. Sure. But now I’m on a very high dose of vitamin D supplements. 2 pills a day, for a few months, when the recommended dosage for old people with thin bones is only 1 pill per day. Goodness. Maybe this will help a lot. Scary to learn, though. And I wouldn’t have learned about it if my doctor hadn’t insisted on a blood test a couple months ago to check on the drug levels in my blood (the other 2-3 doctors I’ve been to didn’t think to test me at all).
Malarone
Travel meds – so…I didn’t realize (forgot…overlooked…ignored…????) the fact that India is largely a third world country that requires me to receive a huge amount of vaccinations and pills and prophylactics before I set foot on the plane. I may have left this too long. Stuff like Typhoid, all the Hepatitis-es, Yellow Fever, Japanese Encephalitis, Polio, Mumps, Malaria…and I’m guaranteed a healthy dose of diarrhea, for which I have to carry around a large dose of antibiotics and Imodium, for when…just in case…. Thailand wasn’t this much trouble. Vietnam wasn’t this much trouble. Russian wasn’t this much trouble. My doctor recommended that I eat at safe places, like McDonald’s, when I’m there. HAH! Hah! Right. Me, who will eat almost anything. Me, who is going in order to learn how to cook from ordinary people. I don’t even eat McDonald’s in Western countries. I haven’t for years. Years. Why on earth would I start in India, of all places. I go to McDonald’s for clean bathrooms with toilet paper. Not the food.
Money. Money. Money. Makes the world go ’round. A mark, a yen, a buck, or a pound, that jingling, jangling sound! Oh, it makes the world go round!
I save, then I stop working so I spend, I save, then a stop working and I spend. I feel like I never have enough money to even think about investing. Why? Why? Why? I am in very decent shape. I have no debt. No debt. No student loads, no credit card debt. Just, no investments. I don’t get it. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to start. When I am in a profession where I won’t earn a lot. So, how do I invest the (MAYBE) couple hundred dollars per month I am able to save? How will I ever be in a situation where I don’t have to worry. Will I ever be able to retire? I feel like we live in a world where nobody will ever be able to retire. I’m not rich. But I’m very far from poor. And I’m highly skilled. How do I get away from paycheck to paycheck? And I just quit my job in order to start my own business. How on earth do I proceed? Any ideas?
God.
I need to get out of this. I have like 10 friends to get in touch with, an article to write, work to do, a novel to edit, travel and health insurance to acquire, flight tickets to confirm, and a grandmother to break all of this news to tonight. Joy to me. Not to mention a house that still really needs cleaning. Please send me good vibes. It’s such a miracle I’m not having a panic attack right now. Thank you to the gods of Lexapro. Enabling a semblance of sanity among the frayed.
Finally, a bit of fun if you’ve read this far! Check out this great VW prototype. Amazing design video:
When I get back on January 2nd, I immediately begin a 6-month manuscript workshop with an excellent instructor and small group to get my book beaten into shape enough for me to send to agents and publishers.
Also on January 2nd, I begin my life as a full-time freelance writer/food writer and personal chef. I am already creating a business plan, of sorts, and I at least own the textbook bible how-to of setting up this kind of business (thanks to B).
I am shocked. I am shocked and stunned and awe-struck because I am achieving my goals. I wrote them down. First, here in this blog, and second, on paper this week. And I’m checking off the list. I am nowhere near professional success…but I’m not on square one. And I am much nearer personal success than I had believed. I have accomplished or am about to accomplish the first four items on my list: finish the book; go to India; get a pet; find career/money/happiness balance.
One – I’ve signed up for the manuscript workshop, it’s costing a lot, I have to work hard on the thing even before it starts (in the 2.5 weeks I have!), and I’ll be damned if I don’t make something of it with all of this structure I’m creating.
Two – I got my ticket to India today! I go for a month. I wish it could be for two, but a month is a long trip, still. I am being realistic. I can’t see all of the country in this amount of time. But I can focus on three or four regions, have a good time, and learn something. I’m planning on taking classes on Punjabi and Kerala cuisines, and really try to get an amateur-mastery level before I come back. Plus — I have number three to worry about…
Three – I adopted two cats on August 8 of this year. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. And I don’t think I would have done it otherwise and under different circumstances. My sister asked me. It was her last day on her archaeological dig, and the all kittens the site manager had brought with him from home to be adopted had been — apart from two. I suspect they were the runt and the bad egg. However, Cassiopeia (the runt) and Fischer (the bad egg, aka the tornado) have been wonderful. After I got used to them. The first month or two were very hard. Very hard. I always thought I was a pet person. Instant companionship. I felt invaded. That my life was taken away from me. My only safe haven in Israel destroyed. But apart from keeping them from chewing on precious artwork (I live in my grandfather’s old art studio), and having to empty a litter box, they’re my family now. I don’t love them like I love people. But it’s nice not to be alone.
Four – Figure out the work/life/money/creativity – well, I’m doing it. I quit the job that was horribly for me in many, many ways. And I’m going to put in a real, hard-working, 6-month effort at food and writing and food writing.
So, there you have it. Living my dream. Still, I’m alone on a Thursday night (like Friday night everywhere else in the world). But it’s better. I talked to several friends today, and I have some plans for the weekend. No dating. Kind of. Mr 23 is still loitering in the outside lobby of my social life. But tonight, I have an iMac, two (thankfully) sleepy cats, an apartment to clean, some old movies, a novel to edit, and a trip to India to plan.
Congratulate me, if you will, if you’ve read this far. And let me know if you have suggestions for India. I’m a (nearly) blank slate. You know, you can do it, too. How simple it is. Just write it down, and check the items off as you go.
Ashram was fantastic. I prefer it quiet, not like it was over the weekend, busting at the seams with people, a crazy mad amount of new-age workshops and meditation sessions, and tents as far as the eye can see. I can’t stand the Patchouli crowd for too long. Visiting is nice. Dread locks are kind of funky for a while. But it ain’t reality. Some highlights:
AUM Meditation – a student of Osho’s created this method. It takes 2.5 hours, done with a group, and it goes through twelve stages of human emotion, from anger, to love, to laughter, tears, and much more. It was a roller coaster, and I felt such release. Imagine getting to be crazy, getting to scream as much as you need, be hugged by 50 other people, etc.
Spiritual Leadership – an interesting conversation with a kabbalisticly oriented therapist and leader. I connected intensely to what she was describing. Leaders may in fact be born. I suppose many of us may be born into our purpose. And if we’re not accomplishing it, we feel immense suffering. Every one of us is a pipe, a funnel, a conduit. We receive information, we learn, and we are meant to pass on. If we don’t, we are stopped up. Like I need a spiritual plumber…. (ha, ha, ha).
Laughing Yoga – kind of fun, kind of bizarre. It’s a “fake it until you make it” kind of process. All sorts of group exercizes where we are made to laugh. And we had to laugh whether it was real or not. Eventually, it became real. And it didn’t always (I mean, I was there for almost 2 hours). But the theory is, the body doesn’t know the difference between real laughter and fake laughter. By laughing, you are tricking the brain into releaseing endorphins. Laughing can heal dramatically. Hence, clowns in hospitals, etc. Don’t know if I would cut out the medical profession altogether, but, hey, I might just force myself to laugh for a couple minutes every day.
Psychodrama – a type of therapy whereby the person acts, along with the therapist, on a stage, in situations that trigger the person’s issues. Very interesting indeed. I was just an audience member for much of this, but it seemed quite powerful and effective.
Eye contact – every session I went to that involved interactivity stressed eye contact. Duh. I come from the theatre world. I have been in therapy. Eye contact is very very important. But I came to realize how difficult it was for many people. We were instructive to look carefully into each others’ eyes, and still there were people averting their gaze, people looking down, and all sorts of “pretend looking,” taking a quick glance, kind of, and moving away. Eye contact is powerful. People cried during exercises where I kept a steady connection. It helped them to know I was with them and listening. That I cared.
Anyway, I met some cool people, hung out a bit with some friends I had met at the writing workshop the last time I had been at the ashram, and had a decent, if rushed, weird time. Excellent chai tea, though. Decent vegetarian grub. But they make a killing, they do. Not cheap to buy the food there, and there is little other choice. No fires allowed anywhere on the ashram or campsite, so no cooking. We brought some snacks which helped us skip meals.
But on returning to Tel Aviv, I did not have an easy time. I slept OK, the cats survived without me. And there was a new episode of Star Trek Voyager uploaded. But on waking up this morning, I was in a different world entirely. Like the weekend hadn’t happened. Or rather, maybe my reality of being back made it that much worse. Juxtaposition. Such a cool word. Such mixed results in reality. I had the hardest time getting out of bed. It took over an hour to convince myself to take a shower. I hoped that I would be envigorated when I got out, but no. No. I was moving through sludge. I called my assistant to tell her I probably wouldn’t be in but that I’d work from home. Hardly. I tried so hard, answered some email, but I fell apart. I was so tired. I slept for several hours in the middle of the day. Then tried to work again. Then gave up, cleaned out the cat box, and went to a cafe. Sat and did nothing as I drank a fruit smoothie. Then feeling guilty, got up, went to a bookstore, and bought my boss a birthday present (it was last week). Then I went to therapy.
So…it seems I grew up in an environment where I was taught NOT to take risks. An environment where even if I took a risk, I felt confident that I did not have a safety net, that Mom and Dad were not close behind to catch me or back me up. Which sums it up pretty well. Thank you to my therapist for packaging this explanation up so well.
I know I have to leave this job. It is toxic. I feel trapped. Often. And especially now. But as I learned in therapy, I somehow believe that I am not capable of earning a living doing something I enjoy. That staying with the status quo, with the safe, is the best option. I have completely internalized this. But being the open-minded smart, ambitious person that I am, have always conflicted with it. And it’s won out most of the time. The fear-monger in me. The anti-risk-taker. Not any more.
My task this week is to brainstorm and take small steps at coming up with a real option. A career I can both love and thrive at financially. Why not? I am a very capable person. So what if I am deathly afraid of failure. Of being without money. Without an income. Without a plan. Of having to crawl back to the family as a shameful failure?
I risk not living a life at all if I don’t just jump…and I still have India. I will go this year. I will. It’s rather cheap from Amman. Maybe…600-700 USD. Roundtrip. Half that of going to the States. Awesome.
I will be a great chef or personal chef or food media mogul or food writer or novelist or cheesemonger or restaurant critic or documentary filmmaker or…or…or…
Welcome!
This is my countdown to my 30th birthday. Thanks for stopping by.
This life I’m on often feels like a great adventure, and it is my pleasure to share it with anyone who is interested.
I am a writer and chef. I am an American woman living in Tel Aviv, editing my ... Continue reading »
We are glued to CNN live. It’s a mess. What a world we live in. Rumors fly. Chabad house attacked, the rabbi and his wife alive but unconscious. Why? 17 Israelis rumored to be held hostage. Terrorists targeted Israelis, Americans, and Brits. Anything new?
Hang laundry
I have a severe vitamin D deficiency.
