Comic Relief

I stumbled across a great Jerusalem blog today called Jerusalem Wanderings. A lot more insight and serious posting than I've cared to do up until this point, so it's definitely worth taking a look. I thought this joke that I found there needed immediate sharing, though:

Two Arabs boarded a flight out of London. One took a window seat and the other sat next to him in the middle seat. Just before takeoff, an American sat down in the aisle seat. After takeoff, the American kicked his shoes off, wiggled his toes and was settling in when the Arab in the window seat said, "I need to get up and get a coke." "Don't get up" said the American, "I'm in the aisle seat. I'll get it for you." As soon as he left, one of the Arabs picked up the American's shoe and spat in it. When he returned with the coke, the other Arab said, "That looks good, I'd really like one, too."
Again, the American obligingly went to fetch it. While he was gone the other Arab picked up his other shoe and spat in it. When the American returned, they all
sat back and enjoyed the flight. As the plane was landing, the American slipped his feet into his shoes and knew immediately what had happened.
"Why does it have to be this way?" he asked.
"How long must this go on?
This fighting between our nations?
This hatred?
This animosity?
This spitting in shoes and pissing in cokes."

Decision

If the purpose of this trip was to make a decision on my future Israel-related plans (and, at base, it was), I've definitely made it: I have no interest in moving here, for any length of time, ever. Which kind of shocks me. After the Birthright trip, I was all enthusiasm for making aliyah, if probably temporarily, or volunteering for a year in the IDF, or something similar. Granted, Birthright is not the most objective view of Israel, as my roommates have pointed out; there is, or at least was in my group, not something so stark as propaganda being presented, but at the very least a real effort to import a bumper-sticker slogan I keep seeing around: "I Love NY, but Jerusalem is Home."

But it's not. And I know this is an idea that depends heavily on whether or not one sees himself as an "American" or a "Jew". Which makes it not only a highly subjective and personal decision, but one that's of even more limited scope in that it's unique to American Jews; I don't think a French Jew, for instance, could credibly say that he has the option of making that choice of national identity. In any case, this trip has pretty much answered that question for me: I am most decidedly American above all. Not that Israel isn't wonderful, or that I'm having a bad time, or that Hebrew U. wasn't a worthwhile decision. But at the same time, I miss the states and I realize that I'll never be able to replace baseball with soccer, or English with Hebrew, or New York with Tel Aviv, and actually, seriously feel like I'm where I belong or pursuing an identity I know is mine. And it's certainly more than just being uncomfortable in the native language. Even the scope of the two countries, at least to me, is palpably different. Even for a cynic, America is still a place where the country matches and sustains any ambition, without fail or limit; Israel seems more and more to me like a place where, for all I admire about it, limits and barriers have seeped themselves into the psychological fabric of living here. But whatever the reason, the decision remains the same.

Speaking of Americana, the Fourth went off without a hitch, sans property damage or even a lot of undue inebriation. The worst thing I could say about the night is that when we proceeded to a bar where Americans were supposedly gathering (only sort-of true), the Euro 2004 finals were on TV rather than baseball. I did miss fireworks on the beach and all the usual, but next year.

Notes From The Weekend

1. If a friend offers you a drink called a Polish Butterfly, avoid at all costs. Alternately, if a friend tells to take a shot of contents unbeknownst to you, and the waiter brings said shot along with a glass of water saying "Trust me, you'll need it" (as was my case), again, AVOID AT ALL COSTS.


2. My lungs officially hate me for the rest of eternity. More on this later.


3. If in a foreign country and searching for a restaurant, make sure the address of the restaurant actually exists. Seriously.


4. The above nonwithstanding, my sense of direction is unfailing and entirely, 100% accurate under all circumstances, even in the midst of foreign cities. If you ever travel with me, I urge you to remember this.


5. On a closing note, it is my solemn right and duty as a citizen of the United States to get really drunk, eat burgers, and possibly cause property damage with fireworks today. Which generally sums up our plans for tonight.

Happy Fourth, everyone!