It’s a funny coincidence that the 1st day I joined Bikrahm yoga’s
free week membership, was the day the West got hammered, hard. The class helped
me in many ways. It’s been a long time since I was doing yoga with a “minyan”
(more than 10 people); and nonetheless, in 38°c. Good sweat, fine teachers,
very nice people. Namaste.
You’d think that pubs and restaurants in Inter-super-f@#$g-national Tel Aviv
would be teeming with life on a night like this. At least I would. Think again.
I walked along Eben Gevirol Street and not one place was decorated green. Oops,
it’s a country of religious and Zionist nature. Not many people celebrate
international holidays, where the whole point is getting silly and having fun.
So I passed by falafel shops, burekas places, 20 different hummus or meat
restaurants, and some exclusive ones with blue lights an’ all, but no green. I
remembered this place called HaShoftim, or in free English translation, The
Judges, that always had a Guiness sign on the front and carried this
Irish-Israeli atmosphere; a weird combination when it’s genuine. A few more
blocks and I’m there…
Three tipsy looking dudes crossed the street and walked ahead of me. Their
excitement levels rose. One of them had a green belt tied over his shirt.
HaShoftim appeared and a blasting celebrative vibe reverberated through the
air. Green hats? Coats? Green BEER…? A crowd of mostly Mediterranean fella’s
who don’t stare at you from behind a mask of criticism? My heart softened just
a little, but it was a significant improvement next to the dark rock it felt
like just a few seconds before.
The place was packed and not with pickup vibes. It was something in between
a city pub and a Yeshuv. Not many sparky dresses and the folks didn’t look each
other in the eyes like they’re competing over something. “The wise man does not
compete; therefore, no one in the world can compete with him.” ~ Tao Te Ching.
Chi Ching - Lechaim - To Life - Cheers!
I wasn’t worried about a sitting spot. I felt like they all knew me and I
knew them all. There was one empty seat on the bar, between a drunk, heavy
middle-aged men and a girl with straight hair who was talking on her phone. The
stool had a coat. Is anyone sitting here? I asked the heavy guy in English.
What? He answered in Hebrew, and I sat.
What’s your story, I asked the young woman, as the bartender served me a
pint of Guiness with a clover leaf in its foam. The girl and I couldn’t stop
talking for hours. I didn’t feel like hitting on her even though she was cute.
I just wanned to talk; to open up to someone, and she had a pretty lot to say
too. She moved to the city from a Moshav and we had much in common, and we
drank and drank…
Two days after. I’m on a bus, taking my regular journey. The integration in
my new-old country is twisted and curled. I gave myself 2 months to find a job,
I made it in 7.5 weeks, but in the end it didn’t pan out. Now I’m dangling
again, in between the sky and the earth, with no home and no idea about the
future. Ain’t that just a bit like everybody else? Or mostly just the
last part.
Gonna go wherever the wind blows, meet more new strangers and shape things up.
With a distinct feeling of melancholy, I breathe the waters of the Israeli
aquarium and the steams of the Bikrahm room. Even though you can’t always get
what you want, if you try sometimes, if you really look for what you desire,
you may find you get what you need.
Ooh, yeah.
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