How I know I'm ready to come home

- Every time I see a McDonalds I think "hey, free washrooms!" (pay washrooms are the devil)
- I can list every item of clothing I own (ready? Black fleece, blue hoodie, blue sweater, raincoat in a bag, jean capris, beige capris, greenish long pants, white, red, blue, purple, 2 black tanktops, blue and white tshirts, 6 pairs of undies, 2 pairs of blue socks, walking sandals, flip flops, smooshy trainers, sports bra, plain bra, fancy bra, PJ pants and top, bathing suit).
- People walking around with gigantic guns seems perfectly normal to me. In fact, just about everything seems perfectly normal to me
- If I see one more church, mosque, synagogue, or other holy place, I may go insane
- I'm starting to think that Crocs (those hideous shoes) would be a good thing to own. I've even tried a pair or two on.
- My camera (the second) is in the process of being checked into rehab for "exhaustion"
-The following things excite me way more than they should - laundry machines, English books (preferably used or exchanged), people who speak English
- I am starting to think in Hebrew
- When I speak, I've taken to using hand gestures, extremely basic words, and speaking extremely slowly. Yeah, even if the person I'm speaking with is an Anglophone
- I'd love a big old Poutine and a game of pickup ice hockey right now. No idea how I'd manage those at the same time, but trust me I'd find a way.
-Shakira is starting to feel like an old friend
-...which is because I have no idea what songs have been released in the past 6 months. Seriously, all they play here is Shakira... ("Shakira, Shakira)
- I am covered in Mozzie bites, the bottoms of my feet are once again peeling off, and I have scabs. Everywhere. I have no idea why, but my skin seems to be fleeing my body.
- Socks and sandals seems to have become an acceptable outfit (layers!)
- The thought of losing my compass/rape whistle/thermometer (broken so it's always 28 degrees outside/magnifying glass makes me want to cry
- I have trouble naming, in order, all the places I've seen
- I often forget which country I'm in
- My boyfriend is threatening to become my ex boyfriend
- Washing a shirt once every 3 wears is starting to seem normal
- My backpack is breaking, and has recently acquired a skin disease of it's own
- Spending Halloween in shorts feels disturbingly normal. Much more of this and I'm afraid I'll never be able to reajust to that weird white stuff y'all have in Canada
-I have no idea what most my people in Canada is actually up to at the moment. Where do you live? Where do you work? Oh, you're back at school? Yeah...
-I'm pretty sure everyone has forgotten what I look like.
- I want to cook for myself, in my own kitchen!
- I am so sick of answering the following questions - where I'm from, how long I've been traveling, when I'm going home, where I've been...
- Everything I own smells like backpacker.
- Spending time with a friend I've known for more than 3 days would be unbelievably cool.
- A day spent in front of a TV, reading, at a coffee shop, doing nothing wouldn't be cause for guilt anymore!
- I should start training for that marathon I plan to run (one day).
- Winter is coming to Europe, and I don't have enough money to escape to somewhere in the southern hemisphere (summer again?)
-In fact, I don't have any money at all

Foreign territory and a homecoming

Turkey. My mom warned me not to go. It isn't safe for me, a Jewish girl, to head off into Turkey. Especially on my own. I had some nervous thoughts at the last second, but in the end I decided I needed to go.

Turkey? Israel? Don't people get blown up there?

Yeah. They do. Just like they do in New York City, or Madrid. London England was attacked last year, only a couple months before I moved there.

It's true where I am right now isn't fully safe, but where is? Car accidents, kidnappings, hurricanes, cancer. Find me somewhere on this earth where none of those things could happen to me.

I need to understand. That's half the point of this journey. I need to know what it's like in Turkey for a woman. How else can I fully appreciate home, where I know I have the right to not be stared at by creepy men. It made me question a lot of basic rights that I take for granted. But I also was impressed my the helpfulness and friendliness of the Turks. People who didn't speak English walking blocks out of their way to help me find my way home. The girl on the bus beside me translating every word the bus driver said. Cabbies giving me free rides home, just because.

And Israel. Ah, Israel. What do you think of when you think of Israel? Suicide bombers? War? Conflict? Yeah. That's because the news rarely, if ever, consists of "everything's a-ok". Yeah, bad stuff happens here. Yeah, there are soldiers with gigantic guns everywhere. But also, there are millions of people going about their lives. They work, they date, they go out on the weekend. They garden, own cats, shop, go to the gym, go on vacations, watch reality TV, and do art. Y'know, real lives. I don't feel unsafe at all here. It's the same as home - take care to stay in the 'right" part of town after dark (for me, the Jewish part), stay alert, and stuff should be fine. It's might not be, but the same holds true anywhere.

Besides, according to my Israel Let's Go guide, more Israelis have died in car accidents than in all their wars combined.

And in the end, what's the point of this life? It my head, always taking the safest road is a waste. I'll always be careful, but that doesn't mean I'll shy away from a challenge.

Italy with my mom, Ramona

Well, my mom has come and gone. (I know she reads this.. so HI MOM!!)

Week one: Rome - the sightseeing city
Rome was a mad dash. See! Eat! Take a picture! Next.
We saw a lot of... stuff. And cats. We discovered that the Italian food is only good if you order the following - pizza. pasta. gelato. That is all. Unfortunately, we discovered this after paying 900$(ish) for a piece of bland fish. My mom sat on the lap of a warrior and I took a picture. The hostel had 900 steps which my mom hated. We saw Pope day (Wednesdays, for anyone interested), and watched him drive around his Pope mobile. It looks like a zamboni. A big, white zamboni. Also, mom's feet hurt a lot.

Week two - Florence. The shopping city.
I estimate half our time in Florence was spent shopping. Most the rest was spent eating. On the plus side, I have a bunch of new swag, including much needed pants (trousers for the Brits). Good thing. String was holding my last pair up. We also ate bunches of good food, made sure to sample every gelateria in town, and We also did a couple of side trips. Sienna (more shopping and meandering), and Pisa. Damn that tower is tippier than I thought it would be! Also, spending an hour trying to get the perfect picture in front of the thing was fun. Mom says her favourite part was the sitting. Heh. The pint sized hotel we stayed at had the most surly receptionists of all time.

7th inning stretch - The boatride from Italy to Greece. Mom thought it'd be a big ferry with some benches. We wound up in the swankiest place we stayed all trip. Private bedroom, private bathroom. Those boats are like mini cruise ships. This one even had a pool (closed for the winter, sadly). But no buffet! Hmph.

Week three - Athens. The eating city
Mmm, Greek food. And rain. Lots of rain. We saw the important sites, and spent a lot of time eating, shopping, and chilling. Luxury is having a shower and toilet in your own hotel room - and an elevator! I thought mom would weep with joy. Also, mom started to crack. One day while eating, a group of people walked past. She looks at them and goes "Hey! Look! There's a group of people walking!". Right, mom. Thanks.

Hmm. This one has been hard to write. I guess because usually only I know the whole story, so if I skim over something it isn't a big deal. But now someone else has been with me, so if I miss something, she'll know. So, sorry if I've missed something important. I slept on the floor of a boat last night, and I'm half asleep.

And the store is called H & M, mom. Not S & M.

Oktoberfest

I know there's a genuine history to Oktoberfest. But really... people crack out the beer when they want to party. Beer IS a party. Oktoberfest is really a party to celebrate...the party? The concept cracks me up. Most other festivals have beer as the background noise. You know. music festival...and beer.

highlights
-Burning the whole roof of my mouth off on a bratwurst...and not noticing till the next morning.
-A drunk Aussie explaining to the lady selling sandwitches why it's overpriced because at home it would cost 50 cents. "3 Euros? For that? Are you kidding? No, really. That's bullshit." She was just nodding politely.
- Muddling all the words to the German toasts songs until half them were about girls not wearing underwear
- Indecision costing me a pair of Birkenstocks
- The delicious little sandwitches (not the 3 Euro ones) they sold on the grounds. I think there was crack in them. I lived on them.
- The fairground rides
- The blokes who cook fish over the fire and then sell them to... well, who whoever wants them, I guess. It made for some good pictures, anyway!
- The super weird guy in my hostel room the first night. According to him there are too many sinners in Quebec.
- My favourite llama showing up... resulting in many drunk emails, texts and MSN chats. Sorry.

Ah, Oktoberfest 2006. I hardly knew ye. And that's probably for the best.