I am a country bumpkin

Who knew? Nearly a month into my new life and it turns out I am cutest country girl!

I love my new big house and my back yard. Every morning I drink my coffee in the sun, and in the evenings I enjoy the breeze while I watch the dog curiously sniff the little trees in the yard. Jersey doesn’t get it. He’s a city dog- he goes out onto the patio and just sits there and only goes into the yard when prompted. He prefers to pee on the garbage cans instead of on the grass. We’re working on it.

But me- I’m a natural. I take walks to collect dry leaves in my bucket for my little backyard compost. I can’t wait to plant a garden. I love all the space and all the nature. I don’t mind that I don’t have a mall nearby, because I have tractors that drive by my house! I don’t miss the city smells (hot garbage mixed w/ homeless urine) because I have a new smell: cows! My new home sits in an agricultural village (moshav) and as it turns out, aside from the fields in the great view from my backyard, we have at least 4 cow sheds/dairy farms! The smell is not as bad as you might think. Don’t get me wrong, every now and then, when the cows have an extremely big lunch and the wind blows in just the right direction, the noxious fumes reach my windows, but you really get used to the usual, daily aromas. Usually, you don’t smell anything at all except nature. But the cow smells that are around, they blend into the nature smells. Yum!

No traffic, no horns honking, no yelling. The small price I pay: occasional ants and flies. I’ll take it.

Working part-time from home and looking for work in my spare time has been awesome for my while I get to know my new surroundings. I have time to explore. I have found these great outdoor exercise machines in the main area of the moshav. Anyone can use them and they are built two by two, so they make for a fun date- being outside, getting a work out, me and boo together, with Jersey, chillin in the grass next to us. Perfect family fun. We have a small general store on the moshav. It sells everything you could need- just enough. No horns honking, no traffic.

Here, I have the space to explore new parts of me- I have started to compost, and you wouldn’t believe how excited I get about garbage! It’s made me more aware of the food I put in my body and the waste I put in the bin. A good friend in a nearby city introduced me to a community-organized recycling center, garden and coffee shop that has classes on gardening and environmental issues. Unfortunately, I drive more than I used to, since I cannot walk to do any of my major errands, but I hope that once I get used to this lifestyle and save some money, I can see how I can be smarter about my fuel use. Being out here has connected me more to my surroundings, the earth, the environment. I’m sure I can’t do everything right, off the bat, but I am so much more conscious and open than I was before and that is a great start.

Mostly, I love the quiet. That is what I loved about Thailand, the quiet that allows you to think, relax, breath. The stress of life has a chance to subside for the time that I am staring out into the fields behind my house. On the moshav, the priorities are different- family, friends, nature, calm. I love these priorities- they make room for the good things in life like walking the dog, playing the guitar, dancing in your living room and having friends over for dinner.

So, when are you coming over for dinner?

Life List

Here, for all eyes to see, is a list that holds the plans, the dreams, the stuff I want to do in my life time. My Life List, formerly Bucket List, but inspired by a friend to focus on life rather than some deadline of kicking the bucket. Creating this list has been inspirational. I cannot wait to get started and in some way, over the years, I have gotten started. I have already made aliyah, been to Thailand as a gift to myself after my divorce (please note, “get a divorce” was not on the list. But in my defense, neither was “get married”. so there’s that), adopted a dog and named him Jersey, worked in the Israeli Parliament and worked in a women’s movement. These were all things that I once said, “I want to do that.”

Here is the running, changing, growing list of the things I want to do and see before I kick it while I live and breath:

1. See The Oprah Show live.  Or at least go on a tour of the studio. I gotta get closer to my other Mother, Oprah. I know I have a small window for this, but I love Mama Oprah and she is taping her last season now and I will be in Chicago in early December. I want to be in Oprah’s audience so badly, I can feel it. So I’m working on it.
2. Travel the world. This sounds like a huge, lofty plan, but the truth is, that this is what I am working for. One day, I want to pack up my things, put them in storage and go off to see the world.
3. Relax in Hawaii for at least 3 weeks
4. Smoke weed in Jamaica (Let’s just be honest. If not on this list, then where?)
5. Spend a lot of time back in Thailand
6. Spend my time traveling to help women and girls around the world who are trafficked or enslaved in sex work. If you haven’t read Half the Sky, make it a priority.
7. Back pack South America- and get to Brazil for Carnival
8. See fashion in Japan
9. See Alaska, even though its cold there.
10. Travel Africa-  Experience the music and the cultures in South Africa and beyond
11. Learn to Scuba Dive
12. Bunjee Jump, once.
13. Find a way to fly First Class only between the US and Israel/Own private jet (a girl can dream!)
14. Head up a women’s movement that improves the lives of women and girls
15. Sing live with a band, in front of a crowd, at least once a year.
16. Run a partial marathon, run a race just in the name of being healthy
17. Go on a wine and cheese tour of Europe, without counting calories
18. Write a book that makes people think, with a forward by Elizabeth Gilbert
19. Take cooking classes
20. Take a course in Thai Massage with Omri
21. Sustain working out 4 times a week as a permanent part of my weekly schedule
22. Learn to Salsa Dance
23. Continue to fight to see the day when all of my friends- LGBTQ, straight or whatever- can marry (if they want to) and have children or adopt easily and freely.

What’s on your list? I’d love to hear about them

Southward Bound

Ever since my great escape to Thailand, I have spent a lot of time thinking about the things that will make me happy in life, and the changes that I need to make, to get myself there. I know that life is full of ups and downs and other stuff in between. I am getting better at sitting back and enjoying the ride. But if I learned one thing in Thailand, it’s that peace of mind and calm are actually within reach- and for those words to come out of my mouth, now that is pretty close to a miracle.

The first suggestion of this came when I was leaving my ex-husband-  I realized that it was possible to live a life in which the screaming, crying and turmoil were not a daily occurrence. The relief and peace, since leaving, has been more than all the pain I felt previously. In Thailand I learned that all it takes is a 50 minute Thai massage to make you forget that last night you slept under a mosquito net in a room with more holes than wood panels in the walls- and not because it’s romantic to do so. When I got back to Jerusalem, hustling, bustling, construction site of a polarized politicized holy city and the two jobs that awaited me here, my stress levels sky rocketed. For the first time I thought, this cannot be it for me- the stress.

I have always known that I manage stress with the ease and grace of a bull in a china shop. But I never considered that reducing the stress might be different than settling. I don’t want to slow life down by settling for simpler work or stopping things I love- volunteering, working out or writing. I did manage to get my work hours down to nearly just above full time and from the 3 cell phones I once had, I now have one, my beloved Blackberry which also helps me stay organized and in touch without losing my mind. I like working in high pressure jobs- activism, action, perhaps an arrest or a good old fashion political march, complete with counter protesters. The jobs never seemed like the source of the stress. I looked further and when I saw the backdrop- a city overflowing with tension, a culture overly eager to express aggression, a political story line that would make anyone with a conscience more than a little dizzy with despair. So I’m keeping my career but I’m moving out.

In November, I will pack up my things and after 6 years of life in Jerusalem, 6 apartments in 5 different neighborhoods and too many #18 bus rides to count, I am leaving the holy city for good. I am moving to Israel’s beautiful, open, southern region- the Negev. I have rented a house, which I will share with my patient, loving, dreamboat of a boyfriend. A HOUSE! After 2+ years of living in a 4th floor walk-up with barely 2 rooms, and 10 years of apartment life, I will have a single-standing house, in an agricultural village 10 minutes by car from the closest city. I will have a garden where I grown my vegetables. I will have a driveway where I keep garbage cans, separated properly for recycling. I will collect my shower and sink water and use it to water my plants. I will do other things to live more responsibly and be in closer contact with the earth, life. I will host dinner parties, have BBQs, and all of my friends from Israel and abroad will be welcomed to stay in my GUEST ROOM. That’s right friends. Not only do I have a guest room/workout room/office, but I have 2 air condition units, electric window shutters and screens on ALL of my windows! This may sound like simple obvious amenities to Americans, but we Israelis, especially immigrants, know that having attained this is no small feat. I have finally made it. Movin’ on up!

I hope the move will help me lower stress and enjoy life a bit more- but also, I hope it frees up some mind-power to continue working hard on some good causes. I want to volunteer, and I’ll be looking for an additional part-time job- writing, maybe social networking or organizing for a great community, or movement.

Also, I’ve been working on building my bucket list! Coming soon…

Committing Myself

Got commitment issues? Yeah, I’d say so.

I’ve had my run. Got married, big white dress, vows, rabbis, chuppahs. Considered starting a family. Decided to put it off a few years.  Best decision of my life to date. Got divorced. Second best decision.

It’s behind me, right? I’m off the hook because I’ve been there and done that, right?

But oh the reactions I get when I tell people that I do not plan to get married and have kids. The disdain and shock that I could be so “angry”, “bitter” and “selfish” to not want kids; the inability to accept that I wouldn’t want these things for myself or that I could be selfish enough to not want to bring life into the world in the form of a baby, is offensive. “It makes me sad for you.” Friends and family members alike inform me that I will die alone someday, when I could have just made babies to keep me company in my late 80s. How sad for me. Does it make you cry?

Finally, in Sex and the City 2, the world got to see the look of of repulsion that people make when you tell them you don’t want kids- that couple who sat near Big and Carrie at the big gay wedding in the first scene, their response to B and C not wanting kids- that’s a real face. That’s a real look that people make at you when you say you don’t want to have children.

Please, cut me some fucking slack. I have already said my “forever” promises and what transpired made those words forever untrue to me. I can’t promise forever anymore, I can only promise for now and for as long as we’re happy together. I cannot look to someone else to complete me or make me happy- I have to do that on my own. If I find (or hopefully have already found ) one person who wants to join me on the journey of life- travels, doing great work, spending time with family and friends- while he makes himself happy and completes himself, then that sounds like perfection to me. Until it isn’t, and then we walk away- sad and hurt maybe but not in court and I will not stay because I am bound in chains. Marry, again? Not in a million years… not ’til death do me part.

As far as making babies, well I have never wanted that but my divorce definitely drove that point home. My God, look at what we have been through for God’s almighty sake. My ex manipulated me to the very end and I was left with NOTHING. I do not own any of my old worldly possessions from before the storm- gifts, furniture, electronics, appliances- everything I worked for or was given that I could not fit in panic of packing job under threat of violence and emotional distraught, I no longer own. He got it all and he and his momma kept on suing and fighting in court, even though I had NOTHING. At the time, people used to ask me, “What does he want from you?” My answer was always the same, “Haneshama Sheli.” My soul. Can you imagine if I had had a child with that man?! That child would be in psychological ruins now. I would never wish that on anyone- not a stranger or my enemy, let alone a small child that I chose to bring into this world.

I say look at what “we” have been through, because everything my ex put me through hurt my family and friends and everyone around me. I also say “we” because we as women, through the years, have given up enough in the name of marriage and kids. We make sacrifices, we compromise, we give. I don’t want to make my life’s main goals a sacrifice and a compromise, and that is what having a child is about. I respect that, especially as I see my own friends become mothers and since my own mom has given my family more than I could probably imagine. I just don’t want that for myself, not now and not in the conventional way that makes people comfortable. Children might be one woman’s idea of a legacy- and that’s an important legacy for some women- but legacy can be defined many ways, please respect that.

It’s complicated, I know. Someday I might feel called on to pick up a kid up off the street and give him/her a home (a kid who needs help, not just a kid walking down the street, that would be creepy) a la The Blind Side. You never know what life will bring you. But I am a grown ass woman and I know how I want to live my life- more or less. And I do not want to be judged when my answer to this probing, personal question about the future of my ring-finger and uterus isn’t quite what you wanted to hear.

So let me suggest a book that will possibly help clear things up. This book is just out but it has already become for me one of the most life-confirming book I have read. I believe it can speak to all women, but in particular I feel a close connection to the topics in the book. Elizabeth Gilbert has graced us again with a book so touching and so true that I feel as if she has given women of the world a precious gift. In Committed, Liz (may I call you Liz?) takes us on a history and cross-culture journey of marriage, love, relationships and choices. She picks through research that we wouldn’t even know existed to show us the truth of the past, present and future of the institution of marriage and all of its many faces: love, family, money, power, loss and more.

Liz speaks so true to the various life choices women have, the many sacrifices that women have made and still make and the many joys and practical aspects of partnership. She makes us laugh and she talks through the pages, because she knows that after Eat, Pray, Love, we trust her to give it to us straight. If everyone who ever made an appalled face at me for not wanting to marry or have children would read this book, I would have to see a lot less pouty pity faces and I would be spared many future conversations about what I will or will not do when I am old, decrepit and dying with no offspring. Thanks to Liz, I now know for sure what I have always thought: statistically, it has been seen that whether a woman has children or not does not effect her quality of life in old age. Health is the real factor there-  so while I do need to get my fat ass to the gym more often, I do not need to dedicate my life to procreation. No offense, but how much time do you spend with your ageing grandparent/parent? Yeah. I thought so. CHURCH.

Two years ago, I read Eat, Pray, Love on “the bathroom floor”.  A few months ago I read Committed as I thought about my own journey with the search for love and intimacy- happiness, fear and all that comes with it. I  read Committed as I began to write a book, that is my book, which I hope will someday reach women like Liz’s writing reaches me.

Please god, I hope some day soon, instead of asking me if I ever want to get married again and don’t I want to make babies, a woman will turn to me and ask, “When are you going to write a book?”

Now that’s a legacy. I’m working on it, girl, I’m working on it.

my fight with Oprah

I am SO MAD at Oprah.

As an American ex-pat living in Israel I have my O magazine brought over as often as possible from family and friends. Everyone knows hope much I love Oprah, I haven’t missed an episode since TiVo came to town and I cherish my O magazine. I read it cover-to-cover, sometimes twice. Then I pass it around to all of my friends, to share the love.

But  I read a disturbing “article” in O magazine’s July 2010 issue that shocked me to my Oprah-loving core. On pg 111, the 8th “declaration” of ‘rules’ we should feel free to break this summer while reading our summer reading books, they declared that readers should feel free to “Ignore memoirs by people who have barely cracked their 30′s.”

EXCUSE ME?!

Oprah, you are either trippin’ or your staff is slippin’ because what the hell, girl? I support you in all you do. I listen to all of your advice. I memorize all of the rules. I know that a girl with a big butt needs to carry a big purse. My book shelves are arranged by color and that my house has to rise up to meet me. I know all the inside thoughts of murderers and people with disfigured faces. I’m not saying that I’m writing a memoir style book about the true struggles of life in your twenties for a woman, but what I know for SURE is that I never expected such an outright demeaning statement declaring young women’s writing irrelevant to come from O magazine of all places!

But I did not know that my adopted mother, Oprah, supports ageism that crushes the creativity of young women. And let me be clear: I was crushed by this statement. Oprah, who tries to find the human being in every murderer,  abuser, convict, celebrity, soccer mom and saint that she ever interviews would approve of a comment that as a rule declares all women writers who speak their truth before 30?! Angela Davis was 30 when her autobiography came out. Should we have ignored that one, too?

So I am officially mad at Oprah. I’m mad at O magazine. And don’t give me some psycho babble about me expressing displaced anger about her canceling her show. Because I was sad about that one. When Oprah made that announcement I cried with her. Not the ugly cry, of course, just the one where your voice cracks a little and a tear run down your face. But this comment is so hurtful and such a slap in the face to your young readers, momma Oprah. Wouldn’t it be awful if one of your South African girl-students thought that their writing could be ignored, that their lives were not as meaningful in their twenties, that their creativity was worth nothing to older, wiser women?

For young women of diverse backgrounds struggling with adversity, our twenties are challenging, confusing, uphill battles against sexism, racism, societal norms and ourselves. A little support and encouragement from our more experienced sisters could only help- and a dig from a major magazine that is supposed to foster best life-living, can knock us down a peg or two, and I assure you we don’t need any help in that particular department.

Signed, sad, disappointed and most likely to be wearing shlumpadinka sweatpants while writing this,

Your (ex) Biggest Fan in Israel

My Israeli friends don’t stink!

In a VERY recent post, I outed Israelis for being stinky and not wearing deodorant. I want to clarify something here.

I am NOT talking about my friends. The company that I personally keep smells gloriously clean and fresh. My friends shower, wear deodorant and even use body sprays and lotions! My friends are fashionable and impressively stank-free! I am also not talking about arsim that wear WAY too much cologne. They may not have deodorant on but don’t worry, frechalita, they bathed in Drakar Noir this morning, so the pit stink won’t kill ya before the fake-Tommy fumes do.
So, loved Israeli ones, please don’t take offense. And if you are going to take offense, at least don’t pick such a pathetic post to be pissed off about. Be offended by my blatant hatred of reproduction, crying babies, and skinny people. Have you learned nothing from me? If you are going to get angry, at least make it count! Have a great-smelling day!

We want deodorant now

**

An open letter to Israelis from like-minded Israeli-immigrants from the US, Canada and England (also known as me, but holla at me if you agree!)

**

Dear general population of Israel,

You stink. Seriously, I’m not joking. Your natural odor is offending my senses. On the bus, on the street, in the office, at a concert, in the mall- you reek like sour garbage and work out clothes post work out. Do you work in the refet (with the cows) at kibbutz and forget to do laundry? The aroma that emanates from under your layered sweaty clothing is foul.

B.O. is a big problem in Israel for some reason.

Unlike the Middle East’s many other problems, this one is quite easily solved: Shower, Soap, deodorant. Repeat daily. It really is that simple.

As seen here

Just like I ask myself why I eat my feelings in attempt to understand how I rationalize pizza, burgers and a side of mashed

This is deodorant

potatoes, I ask you, stinky Israelis: why do you walk around stinking all day? I eat because I am unsure of my worth, I think I might be less anxious if I eat a good meal (Jewish Women Unite!), and I think it might satisfy me when life may otherwise disappoint. Here are some possible reasons my fellow immigrants have suggested as to why deodorant is not an implicit and automatic part of the Israeli routine:

1- Decent deodorant is expensive in Israel. But it’s not more expensive than crappy apartments, crappy cars, and tacky clothing that Israelis spend their money on. So that’s not it.

2- It’s hard to get really effective deodorant in Israel. This is still only a tiny bit true today but it does stand. I can’t get Secret deodorant here and I know Molly’s hubby can’t get his Old Spice here either. But still, if 95% of the population wore crappy cheap deodorant, it would still be a huge improvement from the current state of affairs.

3- Cultural differences. There are many different cultures that merge in Israeli society and for some reasons it seems that the vast majority of the various cultures meeting in Israel share in their love of naturally obnoxious stench fumes.

I’m out. I can’t think of any other semi-good reasons for an entire population of people not to wear deodorant. So we can officially rule that stinking up this whole country is just a stinking crime.

In closing, I would like to personally request that Israel’s Ministry of Education begin to use our taxes to provide hygiene instruction to children, since clearly Israeli parents cannot be trusted to do so and as anyone who has ever ridden a bus in Jerusalem at the same time high school lets out, teen hormones in Israel are just unpleasantly offensive to the nostrils as their zitty faces and gangly limbs are to our eyes.

Thank you for your time and lack of social graces.
Insincerely yours,

The Good Smelling Anglo Association of Israel

Go HERE for a follow up on this important post

Professional Activist Seeking…

Non-profit organization seeks overqualified coordinator (at full-time pay and double the hours) to bust his/her ass. Responsibilities include coordinating volunteers, overseeing logistics, administration, fundraising, and anything else that arises in the general vicinity of anything. Experience is required (but not financially compensated) and applicants must be prepared to work flexible hours and unpaid overtime while fudging numbers and squinting to see the big picture. Applicants must have an undergraduate degree in drinking, smoking weed and/or going to protests and a minimum of 3 years experience in eating shit cakes for minimum wage. Applicants looking for glory, benefits and job stability need not apply.

I’m being bitter and facetious, I see that. I am vastly exaggerating. But after 4 amazing years in non-profits and a million before as an activist, why do I feel so frustrated? It seems as if  I have worked and I have definitely made a visible dent of change in the communities I have served but I am surprised by the overwhelming feeling that in the nonprofit world, where we sacrifice the big money we could have made for the cause that was worth it, we end up professional activists, barely compensated volunteers and often bitter.

Maybe it’s only my immediate experience but I have seen a lot of resistence to change within social change organizations. We want to change the world, change policy, test social norms but we don’t want to consider perhaps that our own perception of our management and organizational methods might be itself flawed, and holding back progress. In that way, we are our causes worst enemy.

oh yes i did just compare myelf to gandhi

Professional activists, anyone who has every really cared about a community or a cause and has been burned, we are not unlike so many of the conflicts we wish to solve or better: we often work with very little professional support, we meet roadblocks where often violent hostility and ego get in the way of communication, money seems like it would solve everything, but there is never enough and it often causes more dilemmas than it solves when it does come through. With so much work on so many fronts, we are often distracted, overwhelmed and overworked into paralysis.

That is the difference between really caring about something and just sharing it on facebook. I admit that I am guilty of both deeds, though I like to think I show up more often than not. Activism, building a community, fighting a good fight, creating change, is a bigger emotional risk. Sometimes getting personally involved in a community can transform it and its members, sometimes it can change the world and sometimes it can break your heart. I’m pretty sure that the greatest activists of all time, Harvey Milk, Alice Paul, Martin Luther King Jr., Gandhi, even some of them who made the ultimate sacrifice, would tell you that every bead of sweat went to build something great- even when it hurt and even when they couldn’t continue on, someone else did because of what they gave. They didn’t just share it on facebook- or the pony express or whatever. I’m pretty glad they didn’t.

That doesn’t mean that the greats didn’t curse and yell and scream at the movement sometimes. But I’m guessing, based on their results, that they always came back around- or built something new in the wake  of something old that wasn’t working. Activism, social change work, is a living, breathing beast that has us activists in its grip- and rarely does it let go for good. It always catches up with us.

Professional Activist seeks upper management position in a feminist, pluralist non-profit institution. The organization must be willing to breath through the discomfort of community growing pains, and give over the reigns of the project in exchange for success, exceeded expectations and a raised bar for future programs. Applicant promises to contribute impeccable organizational skills, constant passion and drive, great work with in a staff and managing a staff, award-winning ass-kissing fundraising and creative problem-solving. Potential organizations must allow occasional crying in the office and dogs in sweaters.  Dogs in sweaters is a non-negotiable term. Staff meetings must not exceed 2 hours and the word “process” must not exceed the amount of 45 times used per staff meeting. Employers who despise eye-rolling need not respond to this add.

Thai Perspective

Now that I am back from an amazing, much needed vacation, my new perspective haunts me.

l had so much time to think and assess things in Thailand. I made plans about managing my stress levels, staying zen in Jerusalem. Then I came back to the same old busy, ass-busting, often frustrating life. Remember the time I spent 3 weeks laying on the beach, eating high-fat foods and loving up my tan bikini belly? Just barely, since I have no pictures. I left my camera on the plane and it was never found. And while at first my new shanty attitude helped me cope with the fucked up loss, with a week in, I’m screaming FML in my head when I think about it. But then I breath and try to let it go for the fifth time.

Lets be honest, getting back from an amazing vacation SUCKS ASS. Even with a gorgeous man and great friends waiting to see you. Here are my ‘back to reality’ resolutions, that just might help me keep the memory of the relaxed me alive:

1. Wear more skirts/dresses, like I did on the beach. Religious girls don’t have a monopoly on looking cute in a skirt.
2. Wear fisherman pants with Crocs. That’s the ugliest and most comfortable combination of clothing I can think of. Kiss my tan ass, Arielle (she’ll comment, then you’ll know who she is if you don’t already)!
3. Love my body… more. I do my best to embrace my curves and rolls. But I found in Thailand, in complete isolation, a real love affair with myself in general and real true acceptance of my body. Loving me up.
4. No more weekend overtime. I’ve been overworking myself to insanity, and taking work with me everywhere I go, including my evenings, my weekends, my dreams and nightmares. In Thailand, I took a cooking class, I snorkeled, I volunteered, got massages for $5- now that, is the way to spend a weekend. As the great Uncle Moishy sang, “Ain’t gonna work on Saturday” (he left out and Friday for Israelis/Sunday for Americans because that’s a bit wordy for a kids song). But call me a mitzvah man, because I think I’m gonna start keeping Shabbat.
5. Do new fun things with my spare time (See #2′s cooking class, snorkeling… massages”). I would love to learn to cook. I can be like Martha Stewart! Or learning the great art of Thai massage. The beauty is I’m a shit cook, and I don’t know that I have the grace to be a great masseuse, but I do love to eat, and I do have hands, so it could work. Look for me, next season on the Food Network.
6. Shhhh!  More quiet time. This is a hard one for me. But I need to devote more time sans phone, internet. My biggest form of communication with family and friends, Internet and phone are hard to ditch for even 5 minutes but I have also become accessible through those channels by work, which makes them major stressors. I need to make room in my week for quiet. This is a hard but important one for me, and I imagine all of my girlfriends working their asses off at work and with families.
7. Make more music. I’m going back to the band. The album drops Chrismas 2015.

I’ve known for years that I wanted to go to Thailand. I didn’t have any idea how much I needed this trip.

But I don’t want to be all Eat, Pray, Love Liz about this because I needed to shut my life away for 3 weeks to get this peace- I know not everyone can get that time away right now. I wish us all a long, paid, all inclusive free trip to the highest number on our ‘Top 5 Trave Destination‘ list in 2010.

making friends and other forms of prostitution

Island hopping through Thailand, the islands of Lanta, Samui and Chang, to be exact, I have been making friends here and there. Some more fleeting than others, some more warm and in-depth than others but all of the relationships have such an interesting lifespan.

Traveling alone is like turning your world into a pickup bar- that’s what you have to do in order to break the silence. At first it was hard and I considered that perhaps I wasn’t socialized properly. But that wasn’t it- thought I’m not saying it isn’t true.  I just had to think like a single bisexual on the prowl. Beer and a backpack, my wingman. Every single person- particularly English speakers- is potential prey. If I’m at a bar then I talk them up- “Where are you from?” or ask a question about the sporting event that’s on TV in the bar. My latest line- “What sport is that?”  is brilliant, because I really am that clueless about sports.  If I’m on a truck taxi or a bus or ferry, a good bet is asking a traveling question- “Where are you headed?”. Everyone’s fair game too- young, old, male, female, singles and couple- I’m not too picky. And I’m getting good at it, too. Fathers, lock up your traveling children…

Today, when my taxi truck (picture a pick up truck with 2 benches in the back, fitting 10 people, with a roof overhead on which backpacks lie) failed to lock into gear, thus sliding backwards down a hill and stopping itself in the jungle, I had no problem making fast friends- everything is an opportunity.  (no one was hurt, just lots of colorful language- “Shit!” “Fuck!” “We’re gonna hit a tree!” and probably some German curses I didn’t catch…)

I have been fortunate to share meals, snorkeling trips and beers with some really nice people from all over the world. A few fellow Americans flying solo in the East, with great conversation and a little reminder of home. Some young Sweds, Brits and Aussies have kept me in great company these last few weeks- sharing stories and laughs over a cold Chang beer and some pad thai.

Sometimes, you meet some real douche-bags, though. But the thing is, that for one night if you don’t feel like being alone, the douchebag you know beats the one you don’t. Recently I met 2 young Canadian guys over drinks and there was some serious douche-baginess going on, but I tagged along anyway, not feeling the quiet vibe that night. Over the course of the evening I heard a lot of fairly offensive comments and chuckled- not at the joke but at the lingering existence of ignorance in the world. I knew there was a reason Americans always laugh at Canadians- these two guys are it. Amongst the name calling of “gay” (and not in the good way) and sports-bar pool games I wasn’t that into, we went to get Thai massage after dinner. They had never been and I highly recommended it so we went. Not only did they not shut up the whole time- but as we left, one of them chose to leave a big tip, which was cool of him. When he told us how much he left, the other one proclaims, “You made me look like such a Jew in there!”

Pause for shock. Because for real, I did not know that people still said things like that- and we had already been through the  ‘I live in Israel and yes, I’m Jewish’ conversation. Usually, I like being The Jew and answering questions- also about Israel. I feel I represent well and I like telling people about our culture. It’s interesting. But not nearly as interesting as the anti-Semitic statement just made in my face. Sure he was mortified and apologetic after and I merely responded with, “Well, I’m sure now that you’ve said it to a Jew you’ll hesitate before saying it ever again, so that’s good”. What does it mean to look like a Jew anyway? To look cheap? This from the bungalow boys from Canada who hesitated and deliberated over having a $5 one hour massage which I have had daily here with no reservations?! I’m done invalidating the comment- it doesn’t need to be done. It’s just so strange to know, after 5 years in Israel and 28 years as a Jew, that anti-Semitism is alive and well- and it lives in Whistler, Canada.

But that night I did more than sell my Jewish soul for a beer. I witnessed prostitution and stripping and the general awesome degradation of women that Thailand has to offer. I know I should be more feminist about it- women have a right to do what they please with their bodies, and they do. But I cannot come to terms with it, when I feel my own very visceral, raw emotional reaction to it. I personally feel as if I am turned into a sexual being for sale, when I am in the vicinity of prostitution. As I did when I visited Amsterdam’s Red Light District, I feel so objectified and sexualized against my will in the presence of prostitution that it is really quite unnerving for me. I also can’t help but believe that 95% of those women are not choosing to do that but surviving by it- or maybe enslaved by it. Thailand is one of the world’s biggest destinations for sex trade and sex trafficking and for some reason every moment I spend watching girls market themselves for old fat nasty white men in bars, I feel like I should be doing something to stop it, to save them and save myself from that feeling.