Yallah.īe’er Sheva, the pink, purple, and ochre landscape, home of yet another friend, a professional art curator who takes me to visit other artists. I hear Hebrew, English, Russian, something else East European-ish, some Arabic thrown into the mix, as is typical. Her friend ambles in: Doreet, manishma? A half-English, half-Hebrew conversation ensues about another friend. We drink Israeli style: hot coffee on a hot day. We drink coffee at a little hole-in-the-wall, barely a café around the corner. Some live in the states she tries to put on a brave face. She doesn’t talk with me about death she asks me about my family. What’s that? A small, intimate cohort works through grief and fear together. She tells me where it’s cool to spray paint my elephant stencil and where, if I spray on that one colorful alley wall, the other artists will think I’m starting a turf war. The smells of cardamom and cumin waft through the air. I hang out in the Florentine with Nofar, my street artist teacher. Haven’t you seen those? You’re missing something special! I see the old and the new: Frieda Khalo, Banksy-ish cartoons, the Damascus Railroad line. I repeatedly visit the Wall Festival murals down at the grungy, always ready to be revitalized port. If I were to visit there and not let them know? Well, that’s unthinkable. And where did we meet? Corvallis, Oregon. I’ve known Stella and Ephy over 35 years. I resurface and swim in for my usual café kar b’li halav, b’li sukar-iced coffee, no milk, no sugar. I wave to him and continue plunging through the teeny-weeny surf. Bo! Bo! Come back! He’s not used to swimmers. It’s the beach where old Russians plop in the cove. Yallah, Peg, let’s go swim at Little Kiev ! Stella, Ephy, and I drive down to the beach not too far from the old Leonardo in Haifa.
And why Israel countless times? Why not Israel, then Thailand, then Europe, then Latin America? It’s Israel it’s always Israel, home of my heart. I travel-back and forth, again and again-to where? Israel, of course. Photo courtesy of the author.ĭid you know that Israel fits rather neatly inside the west side of the state of Oregon, between the coast range and the Cascades mountains? Tiny Israel has a huge presence in my life. Author Peg Elefant adding her own personal message on a graffiti-dedicated wall in Jerusalem.
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