Blog: Amongst Neighbors
Recently, my friend Travis told me how discouraging it was to be working for pennies as an intern at an ad agency while all of his friends traveled the world and enjoyed the limitless freedom of their twenties. Well, luckily for me, my friends have the courtesy to blog about their travels, so that I might feel free, nomadic and young, if only vicariously.
My good friend, and Heated Forest contributor Jonathan Kaplan decided to move to Israel for five months. While he’s been there, he’s been running a blog called Amongst Neighbors: An American in Muslim Israel.
Jon and I lived in Chicago at the same time, and two years ago, neither of us would have ever imagined him being where he is now, “living in a city that plays the Call to Prayer over a loudspeaker five times a day.” But sometimes life has a funny way of… having you move to Israel for five months.
“This place has become comfortable, like home,” Jon writes in his latest post. “I’ve grown used to the things I don’t have, like drying machines and television. The lessons I’ve learned along my journey will shape the way I live my life in the next destination… Each day I find new ways to allow myself to grow.”
Don’t worry, it’s not too poignant. The above excerpt is almost directly preceded by Jon wooing over a falafel stand near his house.
“There is a falafel stand around the corner from my apartment and I literally have to repeat to myself as I pass by, ‘Keep walking, keep walking, keep walking.’ I can throw a rock in any direction in this city and hit a falafel place, but this one is hypnotic. They put these battered Russian potato cakes on top and the smell hits you within a twenty yard (or should I say, meter) radius, like the perfume of a woman. It’s like the McDonalds smell, but you know it’s not evil and made from cow anus. The worst part is the guy working there is so nice; sometimes he just gives me potato cakes, like ‘Dude! Stop enabling my fat ass!’ But like a sad sack of crap, I just walk down Yerushalayim, stuffing my face with deep fried goodness.”
Sounds an awful lot like the ongoing existential battle I’ve been having with the taco truck near my house.
Whether you’re interested in the culture, or–like me–are stuck in a depressing little tomb of an apartment, Amongst Neighbors is a nice escape, and an interesting outsider’s perspective on a place that feels so far away it’s not even real.
I’ll leave you with one last excerpt of Jon’s quest for a pair of Adidas. I’ve corrected a couple adorable typos, because, well, that’s just the kind of guy I am.
They were navy blue with lime green soles. I asked the weathered man sitting on a fold out chair, “Kamaze?” He responded without even looking up, “Essrim,” meaning twenty sheckles, or about $6.
Most street vendors accept haggling and actually encourage it. I called back, “Esser,” or ten sheckles. He shook his head and remained with his initial offer. I put the shoes back on the rug and began walking away, expecting him to call back at me, accepting my lower price, but he did nothing. I turned back to check if he was looking toward me, but he sat with his head down picking at his fingernails. For the next two hours or so, as Vanessa and I wandered the dilapidated structure…I kept thinking about those shoes. I wanted them.
We sat on the cracked pavement drinking mango juice and vodka that came in a sealed plastic cup like a serving of Jell-O, when I decided. I walked the four blocks back to the beginning of the alley, made a final haggle, with not a budge from the old man. “Fuck it. I’ll give you the damn twenty sheckles.” Now I need to find some Lysol.
Follow Jon on Tumblr @ AmongstNeighbors.