Israel.
The People of Israel. They're beautiful. All of them. Well, most of them. Israelis themselves are great people. Most of them speak English and contrary to popular belief, they're actually safe and conscientious drivers. They may make quick/abrupt lane changes, but they tend to use their turn signals better than anywhere else I've seen.
The Places of Israel. We went to Tel Aviv (LOVED IT! Like Toronto or New York, or another largest city in a country), Yafo (quiet old part of Tel Aviv that reminded me of Kensington Market in Toronto), Rishon L'Ziyyon (where Anne/Arie, Jodi's aunt/uncle, live, which is a suburb of Tel Aviv and has 4 Flavours Falafel and Melech HaShwarma (King of Shwarma) AND Thailandi Sandwich, which are TOTALLY fantastic street food!!! It's also the home of Carmel Wine, which is what a lot of people think about when they think Israeli wine), Jerusalem (Great for the Old City and the new city too! Yad Vashem is not to be missed, in an attempt to make some sense of the Holocaust and to learn from the mistakes of the time), Haifa (beautiful Ba'hai Gardens), Tiberias (Israel's Atlantic City? Tacky and not the greatest experience), Eilat (Israel's Vegas? Tackier and bigger than Tiberias, but with more things to do.), Masada (a mountain with 900 steps, with significant Jewish/Israeli history attached to it!), the Dead Sea (The Lowest Place on Earth, with lots of salt and sulfur), Neot Hakikar (A fantastic community that's like a kibbutz, and right at the border with Jordan - with the best dates I've ever eaten! - and GREAT people), Metulla, Be'er Sheva and a few other smaller ones along the way.
The Food of Israel. There's more than a few places to get hummus, falafel, shwarma, kebabs, schnitzel and other forms of street food. Minus one tourist cafeteria, they're all good. More often than not they're great. There's more than just that. There's the fusion cuisine. The Thailand(i) sandwiches for Rishon L'Ziyyon, the superb meal/experience to be had at MachaneYehuda (spelling may be off) near the Machane Yehuda Market in Jerusalem, Tmol Shilshom's kosher dairy delights (again in Jerusalem), the breakfast/brunch at Benedict in Tel Aviv, the insanely delicious gelato of Iceberg (Again, Tel Aviv) and the steak of Shmulik on Neot Hakikar, the lentil soup of XX and the great food served by Anne Lamdan in her kitchen in Rishon L'Ziyyon. But you need to make a reservation for THAT table. They're hard to come by.
That said, I suspect that most people wondered about the politics.
What would I say about the politics?
Well, I know more now than I did before I came here.
I know that there is no simple answer to what is happening in the country now, and in the future. I know that people want peace. I know that the Palestineans want peace, but don't seem to have a consistent voice of leadership and direction, and this has hindered the peace process. I know that the Israelis want peace, but don't want to continue to give up land, when surrounded by enemies and not being willing to continue to get smaller and smaller. I know that fundamentalism in any religion is a bad thing. I would like to know that there is a chance for peace for Israel, but I'm not holding out hope for that.
I know that Israel does a s**tty job of PR/explaining what has happened post-"incident" and the Palestineans/Arabs are masterful at it. This results in the world getting a one-sided report of these incidents and not hearing the whole story. Israel would benefit from better PR and talking to the press about what really happens when the world hears from another group/country.
I know that many people (Jews and Christians) refer to Israel as the Holy Land. It is. It's a spiritual haven, to be able to put your hand on the Kotel (Western/Wailing Wall) and touch thousands of years of history. For many, it's the Home Land.
In my mind, it's the Home Land for Israelis, and for any Jew if they need it. That said, my Jewish identity is weak. I thought that going to Israel, climbing Masada, touching the Kotel, going to the Temple Mount/Dome of the Rock, being in the Negev Desert, seeing the Jordan River, walking in the footsteps of Moses, Isaac, Abraham and Jacob, would make me feel more Jewish.
What it's served to do is reinforce that I believe in The Golden Rule. Do unto others, as you have them do unto you. I don't believe in God, because if there was a God there wouldn't be the hatred that exists between Jews and Muslims, Arabs and Palestineans, Palestineans and Jews, Arabs and Jews, Jews and Christians, Israelis and other countries. All over the same piece of land. All in the name of "God".
Their god.
My god.
Good god!
Things wouldn't be happening all over the world, like the slaughter of innocents in Rwanda, the former Yugoslavia, the Holocaust (and if try to deny it, I'll kick you in the teeth before you can think about what to do next!) and all the other natural distasters all over the world like Haiti, and most recently Chile.
There are beautiful elements to religion, as it gives people a base. It grounds people in need of that. For me, it just doesn't feel right.
Like wearing someone else's boots or clothing.
I still identify as a Jew, but culturally. As I did before.
Going to Israel did aid in my sense of Jewishness.
I like me.
I really do.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
The very abridged Spain & Portugal
Some highlights -- for the sake of simplicity I've combined both our passes through Spain (Barcelona and Madrid, then later when we met up with my parents, various places all over Andalucia), and then gone on to Portugal (Lisbon, Porto and Lagos).
There were a LOT of photos in these albums, and I don't necessarily think these are all the best ones, but oh well! I did manage to keep it under 200 images, as per my goal! :)
Reminder that there are some useful viewing tips in previous blog posts.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
The photos continue: Low Countries and France
These are my picks of our pics of Amsterdam, Belgium (Brussels and Bruges), and France (Paris, Lyon, and our HelpX workstay at a climbing gite in the Pyrenees).
A reminder of the USEFUL VIEWING TIPS:
You can wiggle and/or click your mouse over the slideshow for options at the bottom like pausing and restarting the slides (left-hand side), making the slideshow fullscreen (right-hand side), or selecting to view a specific image.
In full-screen mode (recommended), wiggling your mouse over the top right-hand corner gives you Show info (which allows you to see the captions for each photo - strongly recommended) and Options (like choosing the slideshow speed -- recommended: slow).
A reminder of the USEFUL VIEWING TIPS:
You can wiggle and/or click your mouse over the slideshow for options at the bottom like pausing and restarting the slides (left-hand side), making the slideshow fullscreen (right-hand side), or selecting to view a specific image.
In full-screen mode (recommended), wiggling your mouse over the top right-hand corner gives you Show info (which allows you to see the captions for each photo - strongly recommended) and Options (like choosing the slideshow speed -- recommended: slow).
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Photos Photos Photos - Part 1
Well, sooner or later we were going to have to do it.
We took in excess of 25,000 photos during the course of our trip, and now we have to sort through them.
Yes, you read that correctly. I mean, come on, it was five months! And, well, you know what happens when you give David a camera, especially a heavy-duty fun camera like our trusty Canon 40D.
Every day or two, we would offload the most recent photos to our netbook, and then back them up to an external hard drive. During downtime on trains or before bed, we'd sort them into folders, and even occasionally weed out the ones we didn't intend to keep.
Then, we'd store them in hidden folders on our Flickr account, uploading them whenever we had a stable internet connection so that should anything happen to our physical storage, we'd have all our photos. And Flickr is kind enough to keep track of how many photos you have in your account. Including some photos that were there from before, and a bit of duplication when we re-uploaded stuff we'd forgotten we'd already uploaded, our most recent count is 28,722 items. And we haven't finished uploading all our photos from Israel yet. They're chugging along through Paul and Rachel's wireless connection as I type this.
Obviously it will be impossible to share all of these photos with even the most maniacally interested people. And there are tons of photos that aren't worth sharing: photos that didn't turn out or multiple shots of the same thing that we didn't take or have time to edit and delete; photos of things we personally found funny but just won't translate if you weren't there with us; photos that we took only for the benefit of this or that friend.
And it's impossible to narrow down to a "best of" hitlist, because, honestly, when you take that many shots, you get more than the usual quotient of really cool photos, and even those are too many to share. Also, likely David and I have different opinions of what constitutes the "best" photos from our collection.
So I'm trying to create a series of slide shows that will represent the various chunks of our journey -- 5 in all -- and that each contain fewer than 200 shots. Even then, that's still almost 1000 photos. But I think by breaking them up a bit, it'll be less overwhelming.
The first chunk comprises Ireland and the UK. We arrived in London on September 21 and left for the Continent exactly a month later. In between our two stays in London, we visited Ireland (Dublin, Galway, the Burren and the Cliffs of Moher, a farm in Sligo County, Belfast, the Giant's Causeway) and Scotland (Edinburgh, Glasgow, the Highlands, Fort William, and our friends' little town of Carstairs).
I haven't really given the photos any kind of narrative, except to label each one's location. If you're curious about something or want more of the story of a photo, leave a comment here on the blog or on the photo itself, and we'll give more details.
USEFUL VIEWING TIPS (read before starting the slide show):
You can wiggle and/or click your mouse over the slideshow for options at the bottom like pausing and restarting the slides (left-hand side), making the slideshow fullscreen (right-hand side), or selecting to view a specific image.
In full-screen mode (recommended), wiggling your mouse over the top right-hand corner gives you Show info (which allows you to see the captions for each photo - strongly recommended) and Options (like choosing the slideshow speed -- recommended: slow). Unfortunately, I can't set those options on my end -- you have to do it.
Now click on the slideshow picture below and enjoy! More to come when I get around to it.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Jodi, Jodi, Jodi.
The Europeans and Israelis like to call her Judy, which is of course pronounced Jooooodeeeeee.
How do I write about Jodi? How do I write about the woman that I first saw online in October of 2005 having a shish-kebab duel with her cousin? How do I write about the woman who planned our wedding, with a few little bits of input/assistance from me? How do I write about the woman who is responsible for the 20 weeks of travel we had? How do I write about the woman who seemed to speak Italian, Spanish and Portuguese when we encountered someone who didn't speak English, and who DOES speak French and Hebrew?
How do I write about her?
Well, she's put up with me since our first date. Our first date when I said, "I don't do lines" as it pertained to the wait at "Bella Did You Eat?", and instead went to "Aunties & Uncles".
She's put up with me ever since she realized I love to cook/bake/create more than I do most things (Exceptions include: Eating/tasting, feeling, seeing, hearing and smelling, breathing, talking, walking, interacting with the world.....) and that has its pros and cons.
She puts up with my rants and raves, most of which are nonsensical.
She puts up with me in general.
Truth is, that's what it is. She puts up with me. The good and the bad. I suppose that's what marriage is. For better or worse.
Most of it is better, and there's been some "worse" on this trip.
My sense of alienation when in non-English speaking countries.
My concern about getting lost. After getting lost.
Getting lost. With Jodi and without.
Poorly signed roads while driving in Israel.
Being yelled at in Hebrew for taking pictures in a grocery store.
Being chased by yeshiva guard dogs, outside the Walls of the Old City in Jerusalem.
Not having clean clothes.
Not having our bags.
Not having food in Montmarte.
Jodi being sick. In Galway, Montmarte, Barcelona/Madrid/Lisboa, Jerusalem and Tiberias.
The car not working near Loch Lomond. (Thanks again to the Germans for helping us with that!)
Helping me for hours in the library in Edinburgh and Glasgow, while I chased family ghosts.
My insisting we try different beer in different countries and endeavour to stop in virtually every place we might find said different beer to buy it.
But, all-in-all, it's been magical.
It's been magical thanks to Jodi's patience, linguistic and directional skills and our ability to function as a team.
And for that I'm eternally grateful. As many of you have said along the way, it's a once-in-a-lifetime trip/experience. That remains to be seen, but if this is our trip to "Paradise Falls" (Up reference), then so be it.
It's been a hell of a ride.
How do I write about Jodi? How do I write about the woman that I first saw online in October of 2005 having a shish-kebab duel with her cousin? How do I write about the woman who planned our wedding, with a few little bits of input/assistance from me? How do I write about the woman who is responsible for the 20 weeks of travel we had? How do I write about the woman who seemed to speak Italian, Spanish and Portuguese when we encountered someone who didn't speak English, and who DOES speak French and Hebrew?
How do I write about her?
Well, she's put up with me since our first date. Our first date when I said, "I don't do lines" as it pertained to the wait at "Bella Did You Eat?", and instead went to "Aunties & Uncles".
She's put up with me ever since she realized I love to cook/bake/create more than I do most things (Exceptions include: Eating/tasting, feeling, seeing, hearing and smelling, breathing, talking, walking, interacting with the world.....) and that has its pros and cons.
She puts up with my rants and raves, most of which are nonsensical.
She puts up with me in general.
Truth is, that's what it is. She puts up with me. The good and the bad. I suppose that's what marriage is. For better or worse.
Most of it is better, and there's been some "worse" on this trip.
My sense of alienation when in non-English speaking countries.
My concern about getting lost. After getting lost.
Getting lost. With Jodi and without.
Poorly signed roads while driving in Israel.
Being yelled at in Hebrew for taking pictures in a grocery store.
Being chased by yeshiva guard dogs, outside the Walls of the Old City in Jerusalem.
Not having clean clothes.
Not having our bags.
Not having food in Montmarte.
Jodi being sick. In Galway, Montmarte, Barcelona/Madrid/Lisboa, Jerusalem and Tiberias.
The car not working near Loch Lomond. (Thanks again to the Germans for helping us with that!)
Helping me for hours in the library in Edinburgh and Glasgow, while I chased family ghosts.
My insisting we try different beer in different countries and endeavour to stop in virtually every place we might find said different beer to buy it.
But, all-in-all, it's been magical.
It's been magical thanks to Jodi's patience, linguistic and directional skills and our ability to function as a team.
And for that I'm eternally grateful. As many of you have said along the way, it's a once-in-a-lifetime trip/experience. That remains to be seen, but if this is our trip to "Paradise Falls" (Up reference), then so be it.
It's been a hell of a ride.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
What I Miss(ed) About Home
(Written on a BA767, sitting in First Class, from Tel Aviv to London)
Home. What is home? Is it the city where you live? Where you were born? Where you sleep at night? The question of home has been a recurring theme with me during this time, and something that given me a lot of cause to pause.
Dictionary.com defines home (as a noun) as :
1. a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household.
2. the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.
3. an institution for the homeless, sick, etc.: a nursing home.
4. the dwelling place or retreat of an animal.
5. the place or region where something is native or most common.
6. any place of residence or refuge: a heavenly home.
7. a person's native place or own country.
8. (in games) the destination or goal.
9. a principal base of operations or activities: The new stadium will be the home of the local football team.
10. Baseball. home plate.
11. Lacrosse. one of three attack positions nearest the opposing goal.
Geez, that was a lot of different meanings, but I think you get the idea here when I'm talking about "home".
As a Canadian, my home is Canada. I was born there and I've lived there my whole life.
As the grandson of Agnes Aitken McKintyre, born in Shettleston (Glasgow), Scotland on June 30th, 1909, my home is Scotland.
As a Jew, regardless of the level of my level of observancy, my home is Israel.
I have always said I feel at home in New York City. That it was the city that made me feel most alive. I still feel that way. I feel at home there. That said, it is not my home.
I don't identify as a Canadian, since for me being Canadian so often means finding difference between other countries and how we do things in Canada.
I felt at home, and connected to the past, in Glasgow, and Scotland and general. I felt welcomed and alive. Invigorated. Like voices and spirits from the past were talking to me.
In Italy, I felt like I was welcome and connected to the way Italians lived their lives. In fact, my Italian accent is far better than my French, and I've never taken any Italian language classes. It just feels right.
In Portugal, I also felt connected to the country and the people, in large part owing to my close ties to the country through my friends Marcos and James.
I can say that Israel can be my home any time I want, but it is not my home.
Toronto is my home.
I am a Torontonian. In the good way, not in the Toronto-is-the-centre-of-the-world/Canada way.
Here is what I missed about home.
Having the chance to tell Jodi about my day, and listen to what happened in her day. Cooking/baking for her while she's working, watching TV and/or I'm listening/watching TV and/or listening to music that makes me vibrant and vital.
Black Camel sandwiches (had one yesterday!), Burrito Boyz Halibut burrito, Mill Street beer, Beau's beer, The Globe & Mail, my dear friends/family (Remember you choose your friends, but not your family), my parents, working/earning a cheque, grocery shopping, cooking and baking in my own kitchen (and with my own utensils/appliances/pots/pans), Friday dinners with Wally & Gitta, access to my clothes/not living out a rucksack, wearing any/all of my Nikes, listening to any music I want to, watching TV in English, not having to figure out what people are saying to me and being able to ask/answer questions without difficulty, reading eye/NOW/fab and Xtra! weekly, free events around town, green spaces, the Distillery District, Church Street, Queen Street, my slow cooker, having a fridge and freezer, the wine/chocolate fridge, drag queens, Halloween on Church Street, working out, wandering aimlessly along a street just because I can and knowing where I am/was, admiring how areas have changed while at the same time being horrified at what happens to others, the revitalization of Regent Park and being close enough to my nephews, niece and new little cousins that I can see if so inclined.
The TTC. I love their simple, yet woefully under-developed subway system.
Our bed. Our bed is a beautiful thing. Right now it's in storage, but it's there and closer as we travel from Tel Aviv to London, and then London to Toronto. Mind you, until we have our own mailing address, it's going to stay in storage. This makes me sad.
Irn-Bru and San Benedetto iced tea. These are things that I can get in Toronto. I could get Irn-Bru in the UK and San Benedetto iced tea in Italy. I could not get both of them in one place. Except Toronto.
Our scotch collection. Also, the tequila.
I'm sure there's more, but that's what comes to mind.
Home.
It's a state of mind.
Home. What is home? Is it the city where you live? Where you were born? Where you sleep at night? The question of home has been a recurring theme with me during this time, and something that given me a lot of cause to pause.
Dictionary.com defines home (as a noun) as :
1. a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household.
2. the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.
3. an institution for the homeless, sick, etc.: a nursing home.
4. the dwelling place or retreat of an animal.
5. the place or region where something is native or most common.
6. any place of residence or refuge: a heavenly home.
7. a person's native place or own country.
8. (in games) the destination or goal.
9. a principal base of operations or activities: The new stadium will be the home of the local football team.
10. Baseball. home plate.
11. Lacrosse. one of three attack positions nearest the opposing goal.
Geez, that was a lot of different meanings, but I think you get the idea here when I'm talking about "home".
As a Canadian, my home is Canada. I was born there and I've lived there my whole life.
As the grandson of Agnes Aitken McKintyre, born in Shettleston (Glasgow), Scotland on June 30th, 1909, my home is Scotland.
As a Jew, regardless of the level of my level of observancy, my home is Israel.
I have always said I feel at home in New York City. That it was the city that made me feel most alive. I still feel that way. I feel at home there. That said, it is not my home.
I don't identify as a Canadian, since for me being Canadian so often means finding difference between other countries and how we do things in Canada.
I felt at home, and connected to the past, in Glasgow, and Scotland and general. I felt welcomed and alive. Invigorated. Like voices and spirits from the past were talking to me.
In Italy, I felt like I was welcome and connected to the way Italians lived their lives. In fact, my Italian accent is far better than my French, and I've never taken any Italian language classes. It just feels right.
In Portugal, I also felt connected to the country and the people, in large part owing to my close ties to the country through my friends Marcos and James.
I can say that Israel can be my home any time I want, but it is not my home.
Toronto is my home.
I am a Torontonian. In the good way, not in the Toronto-is-the-centre-of-the-world/Canada way.
Here is what I missed about home.
Having the chance to tell Jodi about my day, and listen to what happened in her day. Cooking/baking for her while she's working, watching TV and/or I'm listening/watching TV and/or listening to music that makes me vibrant and vital.
Black Camel sandwiches (had one yesterday!), Burrito Boyz Halibut burrito, Mill Street beer, Beau's beer, The Globe & Mail, my dear friends/family (Remember you choose your friends, but not your family), my parents, working/earning a cheque, grocery shopping, cooking and baking in my own kitchen (and with my own utensils/appliances/pots/pans), Friday dinners with Wally & Gitta, access to my clothes/not living out a rucksack, wearing any/all of my Nikes, listening to any music I want to, watching TV in English, not having to figure out what people are saying to me and being able to ask/answer questions without difficulty, reading eye/NOW/fab and Xtra! weekly, free events around town, green spaces, the Distillery District, Church Street, Queen Street, my slow cooker, having a fridge and freezer, the wine/chocolate fridge, drag queens, Halloween on Church Street, working out, wandering aimlessly along a street just because I can and knowing where I am/was, admiring how areas have changed while at the same time being horrified at what happens to others, the revitalization of Regent Park and being close enough to my nephews, niece and new little cousins that I can see if so inclined.
The TTC. I love their simple, yet woefully under-developed subway system.
Our bed. Our bed is a beautiful thing. Right now it's in storage, but it's there and closer as we travel from Tel Aviv to London, and then London to Toronto. Mind you, until we have our own mailing address, it's going to stay in storage. This makes me sad.
Irn-Bru and San Benedetto iced tea. These are things that I can get in Toronto. I could get Irn-Bru in the UK and San Benedetto iced tea in Italy. I could not get both of them in one place. Except Toronto.
Our scotch collection. Also, the tequila.
I'm sure there's more, but that's what comes to mind.
Home.
It's a state of mind.
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