On holidays in the Middle East

20 odd years ago I lived in Israel for a year. Working as a volunteer in a Kibbutz appealed to me with its easy going carefree approach to life. I was in my late teens, blond, blue eyes, alone and had no other concern than showing up at work on time. Other than that I was taken care of. No bills, no deadlines, I handed my clothes in at the laundry service, I showed up at mealtimes, I was given free alcohol and cigarettes (if I wanted any), there was a pool available and if I did not want to take the bus (which then was an easy and convenient way to travel) a car was provided if I ever wanted to go somewhere. I had a good and carefree life with perks noone could sneer at or brush aside as trifling.

Two years ago I took my family back to the Middle east. My kids were 2, 8 and 14 years old. I thought I was going to familiar grounds. That I was going to show where I spent a year of my life totally different from the life I have here.

My kids were so impressed by the temperature, the beaches, the food in the restaurants, the vivid people and friendly attitude. My sons got their hair ruffled by almost every person who passed us by, complimented with a smile, and I had to explain to them that it is still not common to see natural light blond people in Israel.

However: what impressed the kids the most was how we could walk around in a museum, go diveing with dolphines, wander about in some historic ruin and then end up in an amusementpark. Just within short distance and hardly any travellingtime at all. And for this reason they wanted to go back this year as well. When children that different in age agree on something a mother is thankful, and to me Israel is the ideal country to go on a holiday.

Time comes, it does not pass.... I think?

Today has been another day of pure bad luck. I have no idea why

misfortune seems to be stalking me.

I know I plan my days I just don’t know why I bother anymore.

Since we are going on a holiday abroad this summer my little man needs a new passport. I figured that I had time to apply for one this morning, since my first class didn’t start until 10 am.

I had plenty of time… I would have had plenty of time if only he could have agreed to take the passport picture, (the way we are instructed to do it: look at the red light, open eyes, keep mouth shut, don’t smile….) at the police station. We got it done, but it took forever.

I filled in all the forms and handed it in, delivered the little man in the kindergarten and got to work just in time.

The workday went on as expected, but when I was about to go home my tyre was flat. I didn’t realize until I had backed out and parked in the middle of the test drive to a class which was practising for the fork lift driver’s license. Another obstacle for them, but never mind that, it is a very old car.

I checked out the spare tyre and it was flat too, no air, and I couldn’t find any pump which worked on ANY of the workshops here at school. Somebody had broken them, in various ways (wonder who could have done that? We only have like 100 16-year olds rambling about in there).

So I left the car and went home, not driving.

To take the bus when you know the kindergarten close in a few minutes, get off the bus, run to the kindergarten, get the little man dressed and get home, make dinner (tea), get another kid dressed and on his way to a football match, give the little man a bath and put him to bed… it really makes me appreciate the car a lot more than I think is healthy. Usually, these everyday chores are no problem, but when the schedule is interrupted it is a totally different story.

So, I thought I was going to fold some laundry, but that was before my oldest son told me the strings on the guitar was broken, and he needed the guitar for a presentation in the subject music at school.

And now he tells me??????? I called a friend thinking perhaps I could lend one of his guitars (musicians are very good friends, by the way) and he offered me a set of strings before I had finished my first sentence.

Changing the strings took forever, as did the tuning of the guitar, and the laundry is still not folded.

Most of the time, it feels like I get nothing done. Still I know I hardly ever do nothing.