London, Tel Aviv, London, New York… And so now my adventure takes a new twist and I am finding myself sipping Mocca Latte in terminal 5, staring out at the British Airways planes lined in a row and smiling at the irony of the situation that an English Girl who had just 5 years before moved to Israel, has now found herself back in London in transit to New York for the next leg of her adventure.
How many legs does this adventure have? I do not know and I have stopped asking now. The point is that it keeps on running.
I think it is fair to say that the last year saw my life as I knew it flip upside down and while I could have carried on being the same, living the same life as before I took a long hard look at what was my adventure so far, and thanks to this blog I had record proof of my adventure so far, and so far my adventure was rather unadventurous… and downright repetitive. I jumped from year to year and found that the same stories were repeated year in year out and ultimately I needed a change. Ultimately I need a change.
This is not to say I am done with Israel. I have mixed feelings about this statement. I have mixed feelings when people say, “Oh no! You can’t leave Israel! How sad!” I guess I would have said the same thing if the person was not me. So I say it again. I am not done with Israel. But after 5 years living in this bash my head against the wall one day and jump up and down with gratitude the next day country, I feel I am entitled to a break, or as we would say in Israelהפםקת נפש or a break for the soul. And for those of you have stuck with the sad and woeful blog over the last few months you will agree that the soul of this blog needs a break indeed.
Now we can enter into a whole debate about whether I have allowed myself to be defeated by Israel and the harsh way she treats her new immigrants by separating the fair-weather friends from the dedicated settlers. We can have a discussion for hours and split hairs over whether I made the move to Israel for the right reasons or am leaving for better ones. We can talk for hours about the ins and outs and whys and who is to blame, but seriously who gives a shit and who really takes life that seriously. Basically it breaks down to the following; I need a change, my job offered me the chance to move to New York, I decided it was an opportunity I could not say no to, So for the next six months I am giving New York all that I got and will see if she is a keeper or not.
As I said, I am not done with Israel. I will never be done with Israel. My family and my dearest friends are in Israel and if that is not reason enough I will stand proudly in the middle of Heathrow airport and shout rather un-politically correctly that Israel is my homeland and I will never be done with her! However, that does not mean I have to be stuck to her for the rest of my life; the equivalent of living at home with the parents forever (so says a 30 year old who until this morning was living at home with her parents). No it is time this Israelite flew the nest and spread her wings in another land. I will still have sweet dreams of a land flowing with milk and honey, but for now I will be dancing in streets paved with gold (or cheese depending on how you look at it).
So here I am in Heathrow again only this time I am heading West and high off my ass on a concoction of cold and flu remedies that ultimately will make no difference at all to the state of my mucus filled head, only to give an illusion to the swine flu scared passengers around me that I at least making an effort to get better. I am seriously looking forward to knocking back a few whiskeys on the plane and passing out…. Just wonder if I am sick enough to beg an upgrade to class with the beds, or if I am too sick that they may refuse me entry into the USA until I have completed quarantine. Cats and dogs must have 6 months quarantine before being allowed into a country… imagine if they imposed the same with humans. I could spend the 6 months I am supposed to be in New York in quarantine instead…
Ok I am going to take America English chocolates so they let me in!
By the way, England is still grey, Terminal 5 is not all that (the Prêt a Manger has only 5 sandwich choices) and I would like someone to explain the logic to me of why security in this country makes people throw away their water bottles when they are clearly swigging from it so it cannot be anything other than water… oh and yet at the same time recommending their passengers to keep themselves hydrated on the flight. One thing the world could learn from Israeli security… yes we do not have to take off our shoes to ensure that there are no terrorists on our flights!
New York baby here I come!