Israel post
It's strange being out of India. Strange to be in a country that seems relatively quiet in comparison. Clean air, clean streets, and you can finish a day without having black gunk under your fingernails. It's strange not to have spicy foods anymore. No more tasty Biryanis or Tandoori chicken. No more butter chicken either! Still, the light fresh salads and yummy cheeses and olives make up for it. I'm not sure if I'll still feel that way after more time passes. For now, other than people and fun interactions, I'm decently happy and not really longing for anywhere.
This makes me think I may be built for wandering. I used to get really attached to places. I'd feel really sad when leaving and miss them while I was gone. Instead now, I am content with moving, content with what comes. Is it just because so far I keep going to cool places, or am I less attached to geographical locations these days?
I haven't even started thinking about college. It's weird to think that I'm starting in the fall, which now is not so far away.
Israel turns 60 the day after tomorrow. Tonight and tomorrow is Memorial day...which in Israel has a bigger impact than in the US. Here, so many people directly know a soldier who's been killed, the result of having a country with a required army service and plenty of wars near home. The TV is filled with programs and sad songs, as is the radio.
The cars on the street stream by with flags fluttering from their windows (this includes my grandma's car). My grandparents' house is covered with flags...as are many others, and the streets are lined and decorated with the blue and white. I wonder, did the US celebrate the fourth of July with such fanfare 60 years into its existence? Perhaps...though maybe less flags, they would have been harder to mass produce back then.
I took a bus today. The first Israeli bus I've taken in years. Since I was 8 my dad had a strict no bus rule, due to the higher risk of terrorists attacks. Today's the first time I've broken it. I figured, with my grandma's crazy driving, I have a higher chance of dying in an accident from her coming to pick me up, than I have of my particular bus blowing up before I get home on my own, without troubling my 70+ grandma. I took a good gamble, my ride was relatively long and uneventful. The bus was almost empty.
The last time I sat on a bus was with my other grandma. The one that now no longer knows who I am due to Altzheimers. She took me shopping for a gift when I was seven or so in the city near her kibbutz. It's the only time I ever remember being on a bus in this country.