Friendship in Israel

Standing with Paul on an ancient city wall overlooking the heart of Jerusalem's complex inner workings, watching the sun set, listening to the cacophonous evening call to prayer from the green-lit minarets of East Jerusalem, bearing witness to throngs of orthodox hats gathering at the Western Wall during the final hour of Shabbat, I am aware that the two of us in our quasi-American tourist costumes make up but a tiny blot on the speckled cultural landscape of this deeply arcane and holy place.



The renewal and celebration of friendship is what my trip to Israel is about. Paul and I met in 2005 at an all-night contra dance in Vermont, where I had the distinct pleasure of repeatedly being twirled around by him until my feet couldn't handle it anymore at 6:30 in the morning. We exchanged addresses and started a letter correspondence not unlike a few I had as a young teenager, with creative uses of pens and stationery that pleased the sender as much as the recipient. Then he visited for an afternoon in Philadelphia, I visited for Thanksgiving in Maine, and again in the summer, he visited with my family in Vienna in winter, then I vacationed for a week in Portland, then he passed through Austria on his way to Israel (from where he's been blogging at paulheckler.blogspot.com), and now I'm here, nearly four years after our first balance and swing, with a friend for life.

That's how I travel, really: from friend to friend. And while I could write about the sights, sounds, weather and customs (and costumes) of my globetrotting adventures (which, I suppose, I do plenty of on this blog, now that I think about it), what sticks are these special moments with people whom I know I will reminisce with for years to come; reminisce and grow.