Friday, February 20, 2009

backing up a bit

Journal Entry August 11, 1993
Walk, walk, walk! I am mighty woman in these boots.
Thanks for the perfect gift Tia. First stop Turismo office, then bookstore for a phrasebook, discount towel shop (brother was right after all), supermarket for food supplies and the Museu de Setubal for edification.

Journal Entry August 14, 1993
Up early and out to bus to bus to airport for the five hour flight to Athens, Greece. Not nearly enough time for the valium to take effect and wear off again. Found the Pagration Youth Hostel at 75 Damareos st. Pangrati, Athens filled to capacity. Tomorrow I’ll learn Greek, tonight I sleep.

Journal Entry August 16, 1993
Bought lovely deck accommodations on the Sea Harmony 2 for my journey through the Greek islands to Israel. A popular spot that budget deck space!

Journal Entry August 19, 1993
Arrived early to the port of Haifa, Israel. Customs was hell but my limited Hebrew helped. Walked from the port to the Egged Bus station just in time to join the throngs being cleared from the lower platform in response to a bomb scare. The bored exasperation on the faces here suggest this is a fairly common occurrence. That is a familiarity I do not desire and can not comprehend. Took bus 184 to Kibbutz, my once upon a time home exactly ten years ago. Discovered my former (albeit brief) flame E. is now volunteer work manager, a curious position of power on kibbutz establishing what menial or meaningful task the visiting stranger will endure or enjoy. Made straight for the home of my adopted family and enjoyed a warm, happy welcome. Ahhh...Thank you.

Journal Entry August 20, 1993
Tonight I work Polygol (the dreaded open all night, dismally mind-numbing plastics factory). Clearly E. bears no hidden hostility!

Journal Entry August 23, 1993
Worked the dining room in the morning and Polygol (again) in the afternoon! Pleasant day but awful work in Polygol. It’s so tedious and sedative it can’t possibly be healthy.

Journal Entry August 26, 1993
Worked the Polygol morning shift. Bored to tears, sliced my finger badly. There may have been some daydreaming involved. Lots of blood and pain. Oddly enough, a welcome change of activity.

Letter to friends September, 1993
Greetings and Salutations, I’m on Kibbutz R H in Israel. I’d bought a round trip ferry ticket that sailed three nights from Athens, Greece to Haifa, Israel with stops in Patmos, Rhodes and Cypress. More on those stops later. The boat trip itself was visually rewarding with a nice view of the sea and sky. That is because my berth was the deck; spacious, airy and cheap. Sleeping bag was handy. Except when it rained, then sleeping bag was soggy.
I camped a bit in Portugal and especially enjoyed my spot in a city called Setubal. The site was on the beach with an incredible view of Castelo de Sao Filipe way up on the hill (a 17th century castle fortress complete with dungeons and dark corridors, now a modern hotel with a ritzy Pousada). When I trekked up to the castle, there was an equally fabulous view of a shiny new, tiny, blue tent way down on the beach below. For several hours, all felt right with the world as I gazed down on my temporary home from the heights of a time long past. I'm hoping for deafening revelations but find comfort in an insignificant incident and quiet observation.

Meeting other travelers at youth hostels, airports, campsites, train stations and boat docks is encouraging. I presume they have fewer expectations of me (my own are so high). My ignorance of a place makes me stupidly shy rather than gregariously curious and so I haven't figured out yet how to pull my head out of the guidebook and reach out to those whose homes I'm living in. Meanwhile, of the travelers, some become instant, easy companions and those moments are precious and fleeting, perfect in intoxicating brevity; like a happy little dream. Though I think I’m seeking solitude, I spend little time alone. And keen to hear my inner thoughts I usually hear my own voice, uncomfortable as I am with silence. Oye, it’s hard being a free spirit.
Be well, I love you.

Journal Entry September 10, 1993
Historic day! Israel and the PLO sign a Peace Agreement. Remarkable!

Journal Entry September 16, 1993
Ferry out of Israel onward.Deck sleep is not all that restful though I did enjoy the starry nights. While gathering supplies in Limassol, Cypress I read the amazing story of Ffyona Campbell, a twenty six year old Australian girl who walked the continent of Africa. That is inspiring! My trip feels sheltered and uneventful in comparison. I’d like to expect more of myself but footing the continent of Africa probably won’t happen for me. I think I’ll focus on not expecting zombies to eat my head during the night as an immediate goal instead.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

snippets of significance

Postcard to brother October 29, 1993
Greetings brother dear!
Israel was bizarre and delightful in that unique way Israel often is. There were the usual bomb scares in bus stops and chaos in Tel Aviv. The big excitement of course was the signing of the Peace Treaty between the P.L.O. and Israel. Hopeful caution would best describe the mood. Right, I’m out of room so hope you’re having fun slaving away behind a flat, barren desk. Ah, the choices we make….
Love and such.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Gothibaroquessance

Journal Entry, Portugal August 8, 1993
Up around 9:00 a.m. and out to adventure. Took the ferry over to Barreiro then train to Evora, a UNESCO World Heritage site and once the second most important city in Portugal. It even had a Jewish quarter (all the really once the second most important cities did you know). Met a few German travelers on their way to the same campground and attempted communication with minimal but humorous success. At least everyone smokes here. It’s a great conversation starter: “excuse me, do you have a light? Yes, I speak English. Is that legal here? Where are you from?”
With less humiliation then expected, the tent went up. Hurray.
Tonight I camp.

Journal Entry August 9th, 1993
I did it!
I survived my first night alone in my terrifically tethered tent. I am amazing.
Hello charming Evora. Stowed my pack at the train station locker and trekked around town. Once ruled by Celts, Moors and Romans, Evora is an architectural adventure. It’s all really impressive if you know what the heck you’re looking at. But, I’m just not very clear how Gothic, Baroque, Romanesque and Renaissance architecture differs in construct and all I hear is Mel Brooks movie music when I close my eyes to imagine it. Nevertheless, followed recommendations to stop at the Chapel of Bones in the Igreja De Sao Francisco where 16th-century monks festooned the Capela with 5000 skeletons. Now that was COOL! The bones are methodically arranged, sometimes in arches and crosses covering nearly every inch of space on the walls and ceiling. Wandered dutifully among historic landmarks then train to Odemira. Arrived too late to camp or at least too tired to bother so paid the 2000 Escudos for a room.
Slept oddly well in resource remorse.

Journal Entry August 10, 1993
From Odemira to Zambujeira (what a rhythm); beach side town with beautiful views of the sea and sand but literally mobbed with people. Not yet ready for the masses, I grabbed the next bus out to Setubal (third largest port in Portugal). Arrived around 7:30 pm and walked a couple miles to the camp site. Not what I expected. It was packed with European vacationers in, what seemed to me, luxury tents and campers complete with televisions and antennas, outdoor lighting, floor mats, pets and even potted plants!
Set up my mini house on a mini hill and crosswords to sleep.