The final chapter.

I've always been one for conclusions. A good siccum to wrap things up, try link it all together. A way to say goodbye. Yet there isn't always a way to tie things up in the end. If anything it would be too much pressure to try figure one out, and then write it down, and then hope it sounds good.

I mean, I didn't find the meaning of life. And i still don't know why the righteous suffer, where babies come from, or any other answers to the great myths of life. It was just travel, and for most part it was more fun than anything.

So in the lack of there being something of great substance to offer, I'm going to jot down a few points. Things that I think make sense. My endings, if anything. I have eleven of them, and they are in point form. Like some of the best conclusions. So here we go:

1. Life always survives. I've seen trees growing from the sides of cliff faces, and I've seen a man with no arms carry a 50kg bag of cement through 200m of ocean, just to earn money, to eat. Life is hellbent on living. It will always find a way, or it will die trying.
2. The best beans and rice in East Africa is at a place called the Dar Express Cafe in Moshi, Tanzania. They also sell bus tickets there. Some to Dar Es Salaam. Seriously good rice and beans. 
3. Always have access to Eddie Vedder's music.
4. Always have access to peanut butter. I suggest carry some around with you. You can eat a lot of peanut butter before you get tired of it.
5. Deuters Rucksacks make a seriously fine backpack. They may have gotten some things wrong in the past, but man do those Germans know how to make a good bag. A solid bag is an important thing. It holds everything together. Just ask the turtles. Where do you keep your stuff? I now buy Deuters. 
6. Don't start with post cards or the postage system at all. Its all way too complex to figure and to make work.
7. Its better to be alone at your own pace, than with others at a pace that doesn't fit. But its also better to be with others at the wrong pace, than to be alone and feel alone. Its the complexity of life. 
8. There is nothing more certain in life than a flight.
9. When going somewhere you can't imagine. No matter what your original thoughts of the place were, it will always be different.
10. Life is what happens when you're waiting for the bus to fill up.
11. Everything works out well in the end. If it hasn't worked out, then its obviously not yet the end.

Thank you so much to everyone who read any of the pieces that I wrote while traveling. Its kind of a weird thing keeping a blog about your life and what you're doing. Its a little self focused. But the truth is, that keeping this blog, and having people read it, became a big part of my trip. It many ways, it made my trip. For one, I now realize I love writing. So thank you. If you ever start a blog, I will try read yours too.

My trip was 5 months, I went to eleven countries (or more, depending on your definition). I saw some beautiful things, met some incredible and unforgettable people, and had a pretty amazing time. And now I'm back in Cape Town. The road ahead is hopefully long and certainly unknown.

Life is a pretty good story.

Cheers for now,
Eitan

Israel: Love, hate and food.

Israel is actually a pretty simple country. The way I figure it, Israel can be summed up in three themes, or three stories.

Firstly: Love

We all got dressed up and left our little flat in Jerusalem, heading for Emek Refayim. For the past long while the Stern family have been scattered all around the world, until the parents got broody again and wanted to gather us together. So it was Stern family week in a three bedroom flat in the coolest area of Jerusalem - the city of our births.

We found a really cute Asian restaurant, sat down, order a few bottles of wine and some sushi, and the party began. As mother Stern and that dude Pythag put it - the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. Kind of kitsch, but I see where they're going with it. The food and drinks start arriving. There is laughter, there is ranting, there is the occasional outburst. You got to be pretty quick to keep up with the conversation. Rude, fast and sussed. But its a family dynamic that has been 26 years, or so, in the making, and its pretty damn fun.

Its quite easy to feel loved and connected in Israel. Its in the air, its everywhere. You walk through the old city and wierdo Lubivitch Jews try grab you to lay teffelin (Jewish prayer things). Quite intrusive, but there is something amazing about a stranger in the street treating you like family.

"No thanks, Its not for me" I said.
"Your mothers Jewish?" he asked softly and inquisitively
"Yeah..." I answered with suspicion.
"THEN ITS FOR YOU BABY, ITS FOR YOU!!!" He shouted with arms open.

You feel love everywhere in Israel. The beaches are packed with the most beautiful people you have ever seen. Like a country full of models. God knows why HItler thought the Aryans were the chosen race. He obviously had never been to downtown Tel Aviv. Olive is the new Blonde.

It also turns out that I have family in Israel which I never knew before. Besides my family in Rechovot with their 345 cute new children, there is another side of my family. A big loud, involved, social family with four kids all around my age. We laughed, ate, chatted and went to trance parties. They welcomed me in with open arms and open fridge.

Actually pretty much everyone in Israel welcomes you in. Karla's couch became my bed. Even after I had Josephs bike stolen. Friends take you for coffee and force feed you shots of Arak. Everyone insists on taking you to 'the best Humus/ Maloach/ Fallafel in Israel. You never feel lost in Israel - like a place to sleep is only one bus ride or one favour away.

Jewish mothers, Bedouine hospitality, Muslim families. Grandmothers. Religious houses. Family. Culture. Tradition. Trance hippy community. Big public meals. 450 000 people taking the streets together. Tzedakkah.

Its Israel - it feels like home. There is so much love. And I absolutely love it.

Secondly: Hate

I finally found the bus stop for bus 101. But I wasn't sure if the bus had already come. For a moment I sat perplexed Then a girl comes running up to the station, out of breath, late and looking for the same bus. Shes Israeli, and immediately figures out on her iPhone that the bus had not yet arrived. It was 22:00 at night and we got chatting while we waited together. Typical Israel high school girl. Sweet, confident and kind.

But this had been no ordinary day for me. The reason I was still waiting for the bus that late, was because I had spent the day in Ramallah; the would-be capital of the West Bank, the occupied territories. While it took only 30 minutes and 6 NIS to get to Ramallah from Jerusalem, getting out was a different story altogether. The check point had closed and we sat for close on an hour in a line of traffic about 2km long. It had just closed. Why? Who knows. When its closed, you wait. Or you turn back and cancel your journey. Ramallah may be a five star prison, but its a prison nonetheless.

I can't remember how the conversation led from Gossip Girl to real life. But i asked her:
"Do you like Arabs?"
Her answer was clear and mechanical. "No, I hate Arabs".
I expected that response and followed up. "Why? Do you know any Arabs?"
She paused: "No. But they are trying to kill us. So I hate them".

But its not just Israelis that hate Arabs. This is not a political blog. The truth is, it seems like everyone hates at least one other group here in Israel. Palestinians hate Israelis, the secular hate the religious, the orthodox hate the reform or conservative. Settlers hate the army. The open minded hate the close minded. Everyone hates the government. Its can actually be quite tricky to keep up with who hate who and why.

But i'm not judging. The truth is; there is pretty good reason to hate. There are bombs on buses, there are army missiles that blow up houses. There is an occupation. There is terrorism. There are people that suck the states welfare as an order by God. Different people, in your space, all the time. Often wanting to kill you, remove you or just change you. Plus they hate you too. And they express it. So hate them back. Hate or be hated unilaterally.

Somewhere along the line Israel became somewhat of a segregated society, Most Israelis don't think about the occupation, because its on the other side of a wall. Most Arabs don't like Israelis because they never interact. The religious keep to themselves. Southern areas of Tel Aviv are made up almost entirely of African and Asian immigrant workers. It can be subtle, bu its separate.

I used to think that the issue in Israel was the occupation and conflict. End the occupation, end the terrorism, and you get peace. Now I realize that I was wrong. Talking about ending the occupation is like talking about what we should be when the aliens land. Its so theoretical and far-from-reality that its actually a pointless discussion. Its encourages division, hate and ruins good dinners.

You cannot bring peace to a country where everyone hates each other. Ending decades of conflict does require some level of understanding, trust and communication. It also requires people to want peace. And that's impossible when people wont look at their neighbours. Politics is on paper. Real power is with the people.

"Stop hating" I said to her.
"I can't! They want to kill us. And they have tried for years. You can't just stop".

Its actually a widely accepted excuse: We can never live together. There is too much hate over too many years.

But that's bullshit. Neighbours slaughtered each other in Rwanda. Protestants and Catholics fought brutally in Ireland for decades. Europe all but destroyed itself and its people in two World Wars. Apartheid turned Blacks into second class citizens in South Africa. All of these countries were able to unify, create peace and move forward. Israelis and Arabs are not special. If everyone else is able to live together, then there is no reason that these groups in this country cannot.

Hate is baggage. And Israel sometimes feels like a storage cupboard.

Thirdly: Food


It was 3am when we finally left this little bar in the center of Jerusalem. I was with Amit, an Israeli who I had traveled with in Africa. Then nights menu up till that point had consisted of Goldstar and Arak. Suddenly we were hungry.

"Do you know what is Me'meloach?" He asked.
"No, but i think i want to find out".
"Sababa. Awehness. I will show you the best meloach in Israel".

And off we went to a little shop next to Chilli's Pizza. Within 30 seconds the guy at the counter has whipped up a bedtime snack that made Barcellos look like stale bread. Thick, soft pastry spread thick with lubeneh cheese and humus, topped with eggplant, onion, olives and spices. If that food was a religion, I would become the Rabbi.

Israel is the home of good food. The dairy products are god sent. The fruits taste sweeter and better than anywhere else. The eggs seem like they were laid by the Messiah himself. Plus Israelis can cook. Everyone mother, grandmother, aunt and daughter is famous for a specific dish. Cheesecake, eggplant stuffed with techinah, chocolate chip cookies, shakshukah, kube. Savardi dishes, arabic restaurants, Yeminites, Moroccans.

Even the street food is amazing. Warm burekahs, fallafel in pita over flowing with toppings and sauces. Shwarma wrapped tight in laffa, so big that it makes you feel sick to finish one. Thick based pizza drowned in toppings..

For the past four months I had pretty much eaten beans and rice every day, usually more than once a day. I grew to get really used to it and actually love it. Then bang, the sensory experience of Israel. A treat for the taste buds.

And so....


And so that's about. Its a pretty simple country. Its Israel. People love each other, people hate each other and there is damn good food.

Way leads onto way, which leads onto Lamu Island.

This week something very sad happened. I have spent the past few months backpacking around East Africa, and finally my time in this incredible part of the world came to an end. Very sad. Luckily however, this incredibly tragic event was over shadowed by an extremely happy event. I spend a week on the mythical cobbled streets and quiet sandy beaches of Lamu Island in Kenya.

Now this was no ordinary trip to Lamu Island. There was a very big difference between these seven days and the previous 90 odd of the trip - these days were spent in comfort and style. Here is a little story of my fantastic farewell to East Africa.

Life works in wonderful and mysterious ways. I have a very good, old and beautiful friend living in Nairobi. And, as it turned out, Lynsey had holiday from working in refugee camps in Kenya and needed a serious change of scenery. By chance, this holiday fell at pretty much the same time that I was going to be in Kenya. So off we went to Lamu. And as they say; when in Lamu, do as the Lumuns do.

So while the past four months had been spent sleeping in a tent, eating chipatti and drinking local brew - Lamu week was spent in luxury accommodation, eating fresh sea foods on beach-side restaurants and drinking fine alcohol like my man Jack D and his buddy wino tinto.

Lamu island is a tiny island off the coast of Kenya. It is mostly populated by Muslims and looks very much like Zanzibar; with tiny cobbled streets and Arabian architecture. Almost like a little town trapped in time. There are long white beaches with bath warm Indian ocean water which stretch for kilometers and kilometers. The streets are fulled with cute coffee shops and little stores selling baggy clothes made from light material. Compulsory dress code on Lamu. Yet, unlike Zanzibar, the streets are almost hassle free and the beaches and blue blue water are almost empty.

To add to the mix of this already interesting trip was that we arrived on Lamu during the last week of Ramadan. And on an island of mostly Muslims, this gave a distinctly authentic edge and atmosphere to our already exotic experience. From the moment that our tiny airplane touched down on the even tinier airstrip on the next-door island, and we jumped on a little motorized Dhow just in time to watch the exquisite sight of the sun setting over Lamu Town, there was a feeling of magic in the air.

It was one of those weeks in which we did a fortune while still doing absolutely nothing at the same time. A week flew by almost unnoticed and by the end you have nothing to show for it but a serious tan (even on me), a relaxed soul and 45 mumus and Somali man skirts.

Each day began with a dive into the ocean, not ten meters from our guest house. Followed by a big, long breakfast of eggs and fresh fruits and coffee, sitting on our shaded porch and comfy cushions overlooking the beach and palm trees below. We carried music speakers with us everywhere, which ensured that there was not only sunshine and the smell of sea salt and incense, but also a constant flow of reggae and dub. We would get lost in the endless alley ways and streets, minding or petting the donkeys as we walked. Lamu has no cars, only mule.

Soccer games on the beach, boat trips to town, long catch-up chats, sun-downers on the terrace, dancing at the floating bar (basically a nightclub floating about a kilometer off shore), henna tattoos, custom made comfy pants, a hospitable Lamu family next door, Quebec separatists, Somali friends, walks on the beach, prawns by the kilo, a small sunburn saga, long lunches, late dinners and early nights.

It was a pretty tough week. But someone had to do it. And im pretty glad that someone was me :)

The few months I spent in East Africa were some of the best that I can remember and this little trip to Lamu was the perfect way to end it off. But as they say; anyone who goes to Lamu once, goes to Lamu twice. So even if way does lead onto way, im pretty sure that at some point I will return.

From Lamu, it was an all night'er in Kenya before a 6am flight to Turkey. An unexpected 24 hour layover in Istanbul, and right now I'm in the Holy Land of Israel - the country of Humus, politics, trance and my birth. But more on that later....

ETA: A month in Israel and depending on whether war breaks out or not, maybe Jordan and Egypt too. Home on 26th of September. To all those still reading, thanks a lot and see you soon!

Eitan

Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi

The order of the pictures messed up for some reason. So excuse the randomness. Enjoy! I know i did :)

Sippi Falls Uganda - probably the most beautiful place ive ever been to

Behind a waterfall

Arriving at the Nile RIver - Jinja, Uganda

Bed time tent sessions

On the way to white water raft the Nile.

Watching the Nile rapids. Thats why they call them rapids and not slopids...

Thats how Rasta!

Truth :)

Booze Cruise to the source of the Nile

Bumped into Tammys little bro and his buddies. 

One-Arm-Pushup balancing bottle on his head

Car trance party session

Sunset over lake Victoria

Back of the bakkie sessions

Hashi Energy

Cipatti making lesson - my best food ever

Front of the bakkie sessions

Card games on Lake Bunyonyi

Pretty much what the girls do

Late afternoon soccer game on small island in Lake Bonyonyi

Dinner sessions - my introduction to Mexican food.

Disgusting place to stay. Really horrible.

My taxi ride out of Lake Bunyonyi 

Final Bed time session with the Wolf Pack. Unforgettable.

Camp site and Somali man skirt.

Paddling the school canoe 

Goodbye to Ian - a great vehicle and friend.

My tent getting attacked by giant killer turkeys in Kigali. Not a joke. They were savage.

OneLove Mulindi Japan, Kigali.

Havana in Bujumbura, Burundi. Gatera, Kim and myself.

Teddy Mazina - journalist from Shooting Poverty. Bumped into him in Buj. Amazing coincidence

On route to Buj with OneLove fam

First big lunch in Burundi

group of cyclists catching a ride on a truck down the Burundi highway. Probably the most dangerous thing ive ever witnessed.

My bed in Bujumbura

Gatera, Kim and Maurice in Havana 

OneLove, Burundi.

On the shores of Lake Tanganyika 

On the lake beach

Another big lunch in Bujumbura. Maurice and Kim

Beach session from the previous post - Kim, myself and Olivie

Olivie describing the size of Gustav - the crocodile which used to plague the beaches of Bujumbura.

Buj market - pure madness.

Mass grave at genocide memorial in Kigali.

Childrens memorial

Human remains in the memorial

Memorial

On the road

Abayudaya community - black Jews in Uganda.

Real definition of Free Range.

loved this little guy

Havdalah at Abayudaya.

Real definition of organic farming

Sipi Falls

Mass grave at Church south of Kigali - priest reported hiding Tutsies to Interhamwe. He killed his own community in his own church.

Pictures on back of a boda in Kigali.

Turns out Robocop is real. He lives in Rwanda

Streets of Kampala.

Gangta business men at the Uganda/ Kenya border

Hotel Rwanda

SIppi Falls

Bad sight - Sippi falls.