i’m on a zoom evening with the Hebrew Writers association, but nothing is happening. For the past hour we’ve been doing sound checks and lighting and only now it has begun. Writers from Poland, Hungary, France, Argentina and Israel are watching each other, waiting their turn to read a poem about light. my poem – is about a suitcase full of all our poems –
in the past few days some rules have changed on this site – technically. or maybe i’ve just forgotten the rules, and it is not as easy for me to be spontaneous. couldn’t even get the title to work today. And if i have to have titles and follow rules, I just may have to find another way to express myself. maybe I can find a free-dance class, one of those where older people are encouraged to find their core…
there were too many zooms for me to cope last night. Tonight another zoom that I was informed about yesterday, that has me reading a poem in Hebrew about light. I was informed when I received the invitation, and it sent me into a spin. I spent the day trying to create a poem that would suit the subject, and when Ezi came home from the hospital and read it, he shrugged his shoulders – banal. His hematological treatment, the cold I caught somewhere the day before that sent me to bed early, the vaccines – all was forgotten. the poem was trashed, and an older, less relevant poem replaced. who knows if I made it in time to add it to the screen share.
now I’ve got such a cold that if I joined the zooms I promised, I’d be broadcasting from my bed, wearing these fluffy white pajamas, my eiderdown pulled up to my chest, the Sambucol and a box of tissues on the bedside table, with an occasional glass tea, and speaking in a hoarse voice punctuated by coughs and sneezes.
Even though it is a holiday, we have – suddenly – begun to believe that covid may well come to an end, we are getting more careless and more pressed to complete all the things that we’ve neglected for the past year. I say ‘we’ when it is just me, but i do feel it around me. so my entries are a little shorter than usual…
There are always many stories to tell about traveling around Israel, but all the Saturday stories end with a traffic jam. We left Rosh Pinna early, forgoing a final dip in the pool, but making sure we didn’t miss the misty view of Syria from Amuka
that may have been a mistake because on the way back we listened to Google for some reason. it suggested a short cut through Dalit Al Karmel, and we were thrilled. We love going through the forests and then the town. But then I began to suspect something strange. On the way there were more than the usual number of stands for Druze pita, and some of them had numerous cars parked all around. Still, the trees and the wonderful view urged us on.
But when we reached the entrance to Dalit Al Karmel we were greeted by police cars and a few yellow-vested men, who welcomed us and then said, “Sorry. but we’re a red village, and no one is allowed in.” We wished them good health and turned the car around to join a spectacular row of cars inching their way back to the main highway.
So instead of 2 hours we spent 5 on the way home, and our plans for resting the evening before Ezi’s visit to the hospital were shot.
We’re on our way back to Tel Aviv soon, but walking in the fresh air of this town has been wonderfully refreshing, if quiet.
i don’t mean the town or the art galleries, which I’ve seen before and have no patience for right now, or the wonderful restaurants – all closed right now, but the waters and the hills are so wonderful, and we’ve got each other to keep us busy. More tomorrow.
since Ezi is even more in love with planes than ever, he traces them on his app so we knew exactly when the first vaccinations would arrive, and turned on the tv to watch it. And there was our Prime Minister, taking all the credit, perhaps even justifiably. Who knows? He doesn’t share anything that might be important to anyone who could be considered important. In any case it is a great day – and we can begin to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
One thing we will not do is travel to the emirates in the near future. I’m sure they are very nice people and we could become very good friends and partners, but I have a little worry about infections and terrorists. What happens to some Israeli who catches corona while he’s there and needs hospitalization? what happens if Iran gets wind of him? I think I’ll stay here for a while longer – at least in this country.
yesterday it was announced that a night curfew was going to begin on Wednesday – from 6 p.m. to 5 a.m. Today it was canceled. The contradicting instructions that the population here have been getting – instructions that affect every aspect of their lives – have been driving people mad. Paranoia, fear of loved ones, inability to make any plans, together with the imminent fear of loss of livelihood – show in the day-to-day activities of many people i love. not only in Israel, but around the world. I too am quite mad – but i’ve always been mad so it’s not too unpredictable for me. and almost indecipherable from my normal behavior.
One form of the contemporary madness that may be unique to those i love is the determination to ensure the fact that our time has not been wasted. we run from zoom to zoom, from site to site, from plan to plan.
We weren’t the only ones taking a break at the Tel Aviv port today. There were lots of people walking enjoying themselves in the hazy warm weather.
i don’t think the stores are doing as well… Even though I did my duty and bought as much as Ezi could bear, and a very few places were booming, there were reminders