Transitions to Solitude

I chose Israel as the first stop on my partial world tour for a number of reasons. I didn't want to have to work again for awhile so I planned on spending most of my adventure in South East Asia, where the dollar still packs a punch. At the same time, I definitely wanted to spend a couple months in Israel, visiting my family here, learning the language, connecting with my roots, and seeing what it would be like to possibly live here one day. That said, the obvious reason for starting here is a logistical one: it's on the way.

But beyond that, Israel as a starting point serves as an ideal transitional period to the open ended adventure ahead of me. It's a western country bordering the eastern world, a gateway to the east; you might even call it a middle east (Ha). I'm far from home, but have plenty of family here. I have to approach a lot of strangers in order to make friends, but I already had two very close friends waiting for me here when I arrived and am in a country who's people have a reputation for their approachability. The locals all speak a foreign language here that I've determined myself to learn, but nearly everybody speaks English as well and it was easy to sign up for a month worth of Hebrew language classes. I have to get used to sleeping on an uncomfortable bed, in a noisy environment, with no way to block the sun at dawn, but it's my own apartment in a nice part of town. I have to learn my way around a major world city I know nothing about, including a robust bus system, but I have widespread support from everybody around me as well as parents who are Tel Aviv experts just a phone call away. I've lost all track of the dates, forgetting one friend's birthday, Valentine's Day, and the Superbowl so far, and have to get accustomed to being disconnected in general, but my brother, Tomer, has lent me his laptop and my apartment has Internet access, so I've been able to stay in regular touch with a lot of people back home. (NOTE: Download Skype to video chat with me anytime I'm online. I'm 7 hours ahead and usually up late.) In short, from day one I've had to face many of the obstacles and challenges that I'll encounter throughout this trip, but within a much easier context. I took this into account when planning the trip and I'm happy to see how well it's worked out thus far.

There's another transitional aspect to my stay here that I haven't yet touched upon. I'm finding myself increasingly more accustomed to being by myself most of the time. This path towards comfortable solitude and tangible independence actually started back in New York, when my job ended in early November. I spent most of November and all of December roaming around Manhattan, exploring all the sites, galleries, museums, and shows that I never had the time to visit before because I was always working; And, for the most part, I did it by myself. That path has continued here, along 13+ hours of flight time, and countless hours looking at bus maps, sitting in cafes, lying by the beach, bike riding down the Yarkon River, and a whole lot of walking, all without anyone to keep me company. I've been able to spend time with my brother, cousins, friends, and students at the Ulpan, and they have all been a wonderful help in this transitional period, but a very and increasingly large majority of my time is spent alone. And it's getting easier.

When describing my plans for 2009, many of my friends would immediately jump to this aspect, "you're going by yourself? Wow, I couldn't do that." I said that I wasn't too worried. Every year of my life I've gotten better at introducing myself to strangers and every person I talked to that had done such a trip stressed the importance of going it alone.

"You'll meet people everywhere you go," was the general sentiment, "and you won't want to be tied down to the plans and preferences of someone else. This is YOUR trip." Besides, who else could I convince to quit their job to go to Israel with me as a conflict tore on in Gaza? But I never really considered trying to convince anyone either. In retrospect, however, I can tell you that I was really scared about this concept. I talk a lot; I love to share new experiences and create memories with people I care about; I like having someone to regularly sanity check my decisions; and I hate to eat alone. I considered myself a pretty independent person, but knew that this was just a relative measure, and that on an absolute scale I was a ways away from the degree of self-sufficiency I wanted.

Tomorrow will mark the one month point since my departure and three months since the true start to this lesson in autonomy when my employment ended. What have I learned? One. Audiobooks are amazing. Walking and reading at the same time?? The future is now! Stephen Fry delivers Harry Potter better than any film version ever could, the BBC's production of the His Dark Materials Trilogy (aka The Golden Compass) is beyond cinematic, and David Sedaris is just plain hysterical. Two. I still very much love to read the old fashioned way. Hours spent at a cafe alternating between cups of cappuccino and glasses of wine while pouring through David Quammen's fascinating essays, the Picture of Dorian Gray, and an interesting book Phillip gave me that takes a modern and broad approach to surveying philosophical thought entitled "This Is Not A Book" make one happy not to have someone expecting conversation. Three. Writing in a journal has been easy, therapeutic and hard to stop. Once I fully grasped the concept that no one but me will read the Moleskine that Phil bought me, I stopped focusing on presentation and outside critique and started to just write for the sake of writing. It was tough to find the right balance. While I don't want to feel someone else's eyes over my shoulder I do want to improve my writing and not to end up with a babbling stream of consciousness. I think I've started to find the rhythm but am still adjusting. Four. I've missed piano terribly and have been worried that I'll lose a lot of the newer songs in my head. To try and amend this I bought a harmonica the other day and have been teaching myself via YouTube. The theory is that if I can bang out a tune and corresponding harmony on harmonica, I can write down the corresponding notes to avoid losing any fleeting muse.

Five. Finally, and most importantly, I'm trying not to always immerse myself in outside stimulation. I'm trying to spend a good amount of time without a book, headphones, Internet, random conversations with strangers, or harmonica and to just think quietly, or not at all. This is the area of Independence that I have the most room to improve on. On some level, independence is contentment with yourself and your surroundings. Growing up with the Internet and living in an environment like NYC has made me more addicted to material things and constant stimulation than I'd like to admit. Not surprisingly I had a rather hard time getting over leaving my Treo behind. Instant answers, unlimited information, and a constant connection to everyone all in my pocket is a tough thing to give up once you take it for granted. I bought a new Nokia here for 200 shekels (about $50) from a kiosk and love it! It's small, light, simple, with a black and green screen, lasts a week on a single charge, has a built in flashlight and a few games, and never freezes, crashes, or drops calls. What more do you really need?