sneezy
breezy
and cheesy (christmas music)
This week I journeyed across the Negev on my camel, Hawija. I pulled my woolen cloak taught to shield my face from the sun by day, and the bitter, sand-studded winds by night.
My throat was parched...so parched that I fancied a mirage: the scorpions were, themselves, crawling goats' bladders filled with cool water from an ancient Herodian well. I picked one up and wrung it to my open mouth.
I woke up the following day, my head engorged with throbbing pus, my mind clouded with unsavory thoughts of what could have been my end. Hawija had fled. I hoped the desert jackals had not devoured her.
Suddenly, a figure clothed in white appeared before me. His name was Zalman. He was holding a clipboard. He knew my name.
Gans. Aliza. Bus number 2.
I was ushered into a cool, humming coach bus. I sat next to a Russian man with over-gelled hair. I was given a sandwich. Everyone on this caravan had a backpack with the word "Masa" embroidered on it.
Was this...had I...reached the outer realm? A second life? The heaven of my forefathers?
Masa Shabaton in the Negev.
I visited bedouin tents, attended too many lectures on sustainable living in the desert, ate greasy chicken, saw tumbleweed blow in the thunderous winds of a sand storm, drank a lot of tea, watched Magic Bullet infomercials. Overall, a journey to remember.
Then I got home (I started calling the K'var "home" which means I must really be settled in) and started feeling achey and chilly. I took a couple Tylenol and went straight to bed. I woke up with a fever and the whole Megillah of symptoms. I spent the whole day in bed sleeping. It was a blur of Rapid Eye Movement, trying to read Grapes of Wrath without getting a pounding headache, and then settling for two hours of "Hey Arnold" episodes. I called a doctor Sunday night at 2 PM and he didn't call back until 11:30 PM. He also didn't speak a word of english. I went to the medical clinic on Monday with Shoshana, and the doctor (Moishe Hirschenbaum from Queens, NY) concluded that I had either a really bad cold or the flu (if my fever persisted for another 48 hours). I skyped with the family for our annual Hanukkah Extravaganza in Bridgewater, MA. It was great to see everyone having a great time without me.
Did a social experiment with my friend in Mea Shearim, the uber-religious neighborhood of Jerusalem. Men and women aren't frequently seen together (it is inappropriate and immodest to associate casually with members of the opposite sex) so we saw some eyebrows twisted in some interesting positions. I went to the shuk and got provisions to make chicken soup for all the people on our program that are sick (there are six or seven as of now). But as soon as I finished cleaning the chicken necks (I thought of you sucking the bones, dad) I started sneezing again. I ate a bowl of finished soup and made one of those nasal tissue tampon things (coils of toilet paper shoved up my nostrils to catch the drips).
I am going to finish watching "Singing in the Rain," which is one of the best feel-good movies I have ever watched. Then more sleep. Oh, sleep...let me marinate in your moonlight...snooze in soothing silence.
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