Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Can't see the forest for the trees

It's been an excessively long time since my last blog post. If anyone has actually been waiting, I apologise. You see, I'm just coming out of a hefty dose of "boo Israel", and I didn't feel it was safe for me to write my blog when I was in such a negative state of mind regarding the country in which I'm currently residing and which this blog is centered around.

I'm good now.

For whatever reason(s), homesickness settled in. This only lasted a day or two, but the funk it left me in lingered like a bad smell (it is Tel Aviv after all - cat piss anyone?). Like any bad vibes, you get on with your day just fine. And out of nowhere, a wave of tsunami proportions crashes down on you, leaving you in a not-quite-foul mood, but not entirely pleasant either, leaving you wondering why you suddenly feel like kicking every stray cat (don't worry, I never kicked any stray cats).

It's perfectly natural for the rose-tinted glasses to come off at some point. I just feel like mine got taken off and then stomped on, then one of Tel Aviv's thousands of dogs came by and defecated on them. But like they say, "this too shall pass". And indeed it is passing. I'm not quite there yet. I'm still standing on the platform, waiting patiently (how un-Israeli of me) to get back on the Israel-love train. To be fair, my grievances are more directed towards Tel Aviv, but Israel as a country has some explaining to do, too.

Slowly, slowly, I'm starting to re-appreciate this place. I still get a little thrill out of being mistaken for an Israeli (talk about a serious case of Stockholm Syndrome, I kid, I kid). I've started watching the sunsets again, and remind myself how lucky I am to have this opportunity, to live in this most craziest of crazy cities. Yesterday, when I came to the entrance to a bar, the security guard turned to me and I expected him to ask for my ID or to see what's in my bag. None of that. He turns to me and asks in Hebrew "eich omrim 'chetzi' b'anglit" (which translates to "how do you say 'half' in English?). I think it was the same security guard who a few weeks earlier looked at my ID and shook his head. When I asked him what the problem was he said very seriously (in Hebrew but will put in English for simplicity), "This isn't you. You're much prettier now!" And then his face broke into a big cheeky smile. FYI, this guard was easily in his 60s.

It's these experiences that turn my heart from stone to hummous. Az yihiye beseder (so it'll be alright); I've got my ticket and I'm ready to get back on board.