Recharging? Regrouping?

Yesterday was one of those pensive, moody, explorative days I’ve missed – and I hope today will be somewhat similar. I began the day writing and researching, partly for the trip (this blog) and partly for my internship. Then I went out, walking to the David Ben Gurion Museum – his old house on the aptly named Ben Gurion Avenue, about three minutes from our flat. It was nearly empty, except for one other quiet visitor, so I took my time, wandering the rooms, reading quotes. There were actually few placards describing what I was seeing, but I appreciated the fact that I didn’t feel compelled to read, and could just soak in the ambiance. It was very austere, very simple. Functional. The upstairs I enjoyed most, for that was where three rooms connected to form his library. In fact, both his bedroom/office and his library were filled, wall-to-wall with books. There is something so mysterious and magical about row upon row of bindings. What’s inside? What secrets? What insight?

After the museum, I walked up Dizengoff, which I’ve done several times, but this time I actually paused at a few of the more interesting shops (i.e. bookstores). In the first, I meandered through art books and philosophy before finding, in a little stack, something that took me way back to childhood. It was the “Mr. Smiley-Face” series. Mom used to read them to me when I was about three, and I would always correct her, “No Mom, MISS Smiley-Face.” I haven’t seen these books in ages and it was so ironic, one of those cosmic coincidences that here, in Israel, as I’m attempting to find my own womanhood, that I stumbled upon the first instances of my budding feminism. Interesting indeed. I bought two.

I kept walking. I needed some gym shorts since I think I left three pairs at the Meridian Hotel in Jerusalem (reminder: call!). Before I arrived, I had packed every, every conceivable thing I thought I might not be able to get in Israel. I remembered from living here before that although Israel has tons of shopping, some products are hard to find. Tel Aviv, though, is shopper’s paradise. I found a Nike store at Dizengoff Center – which had exactly the shorts I couldn’t find anywhere in the States.

But enough of banalities. The rest of my afternoon was far more productively spent. I walked back home and spent the long, hot afternoon doing writing and research. Our flat is wonderfully quiet, despite its being on one of Israel’s busiest streets. Even at night, when I read out on the balcony, there is hardly any street noise, neighbor noise, nothing. When all the girls are here it’s a different story, of course. But I have so much freedom and alone time, it’s nice to have others to interact with too. My preliminary research for Ashoka has focused on determining whether or not two potential fellows (Israel’s first) have truly unique, potentially revolutionary ideas. Ashoka calls this the “knockout test” and without it, there can be no funding. The reason behind the test is simple: basically, since Ashoka aims at pervasive social change, a fellow must demonstrate first that their entrepreneurial idea could generate such change if connected with funding and resources. The numbers back the method –

Late afternoon, just as the girls were trickling in from work, I headed out again. I wanted to do a bit more exploring. At first I headed to the beach, but I didn’t quite feel in the mood for sand and sun, so I walked back up to Ben Yehuda Street. I walked down, down, past lots of little shops and restaurants, more sedate than Dizengoff, but still plenty of local flavor. All my friends know that I have a terrible sense of direction, but I didn’t want to turn around and retrace my steps to get back home, so I decided to take a chance and see if one of the little side streets didn’t lead me back to Dizengoff. It took a while, but just when I was about to turn around, I saw a sign for Dizengoff Center. It was a good feeling, following my nose and finding my way back home.

I was quite tired by this point, but I can never pass up an opportunity to browse books, and there were several tables set up on the sidewalk to ensnare bibliophiles like me. I stopped. I had to. Most of the English offerings were sci-fi (I learned later from the shop clerk that the store specializes in sci-fi, and in fact has its own publishing company), but casually tossed to the side was The Rubayat of Omar Khayam. Fate, of course. What else could it be? For some reason, I have a knack for finding the right books for those times in life when you need a certain kind of guidance. Or inspiration, confirmation, encouragement.

I didn’t have any money with me, otherwise I probably would have bought it. Instead, I spent several hours reading the entire thing while surrounded by the bustle of Tel Aviv shoppers. Partway through, I went into the shop and sat on a stool, book in one hand, journal in the other. Some lines I had to copy down. Others I glossed over, enjoying the words and not concerned too much with deeper meanings. Engrossed as I was in poetry, I didn’t register the sound of Hebrew coming at me, growing persistently louder. Finally I turned around. The clerk was asking me something. I shook my head. No Hebrew. In a blink, she switched into fluent English. What are you reading? And with that we spent a good half hour or so talking about language (she speaks bits and pieces of nine).

By the time I got back to the flat (I can’t quite call it home yet), it was after seven. I wrote and researched some more, talked for the longest time yet (since being in Israel) to Mom and Dad, wrote, researched and read for the rest of the night.

Today hasn’t been quite so eventful, but I did take an incredible talk along the beach, listening to my favorite music and trying, trying to absorb all that’s happened over the past month, year, decade. I’m giving myself the rest of the week to hole up – retrench, reorient and then branch out once again. I’m looking forward to meeting some of my old friends, doing more for my internship. Most of all, I’m looking forward to Haifa. I wonder what that will bring…