Today in Akko, Israel.
We are walking the old city of Acre or Akko,
It is THE oldest, continually lived in city,......In the WHOLE WORLD.
Can you imagine this?
Oh, the folly of my youth....
I used to come here to Akko, when I was a very young woman.
I always loved it here..... But for the wrong reasons.
I used to come here, for massive Rave parties by the beach, (when they just originated), filled with dope, dance and ecstasy.
I used to eat with the fishermen, always high and hungry with the 'munchies'.
I never read about the history of the place, never tried to hear the local stories, old OR new....
I am amazed now, by how rich in vibrations this place really is.
Every stone tells a story.
Nobody knows how old this city actually is, but it was already in existence 5000 years ago, and it was mentioned in the Chronicles of one of the Pharaohs.
It has changed hands, of course through the years, as men warred, conquered and occupied it again and agin.
It was under the rule of King David, Salomon, Alexander the Great, the Romans, Julius Caesar passed through it, and even Napoleon tried to occupy it.
More recently, It was in the hands of the Ottoman Turkish empire and the British empire.
It was also the site of the Jewish "Bar Kochba" Revolt, in which many Jews were killed by the Romans. (I do not think I mentioned before that my last name was Bar Kochba, when I was married to Roni.... Until I revolted....)
Now, it is mostly an Arab city, that is part of Israel.
Which means that the Arabs living here, carry an Israeli ID cards and passports.
The streets are filled with crowded stores, selling spices, fresh produce, marinated pickles, delicious Arab bakeries, Hummus restaurants, smoky coffee houses (I am sitting in one now, as I write this. All this strong Arab coffee, is making my heart race faster, I am not used to drinking so much strong coffee so often.)
The smell in the streets is a rich aroma. The one scent that jump into my nostrils, is the smell of Musk perfume (it is like a Patchouli), it used to be a favorite among young teenage women, 30 years ago.
Aparently, it still being sold by the weigh, in lovely bottles.
We just finished a visit to the Turkish Hammam baths, which are ancient communal baths, converted now to a museum.
The Turkish music, that is playing on the speakers, is so soulful.... I am carried away, on the waves of my imagination.
The Hammam's attendants, were real story tellers.
It was part of their job description.
One would come from the dusty streets, to clean more than their bodies, they came to refresh their spirits too.
To soak in the hot steams, but also to soak in the cultural stories.
The stories being told, although dipped in myth and embellishments, were usually of historical nature.
They told stories of strong conquerors, being defeated and trapped, of vicious rulers, cutting limbs and heads.
Since the Hammam started in the Turkish rule, most stories revolved around the iron hand ruler, named El Jezzar.
The attendants were also body workers and massage therapists that also did emotional release for their visitors.
If you ever saw a Hamman massage treatment being done, you must know that it is a PAINFUL and CLEANSING experience.
They rub your skin until it is raw.
They twist your limbs until you cry.
They massage you with their large calloused hands, until you feel like you are being held in a symbolic Father figure's hands.
And,
They smack you with Eucalyptus brunches, until you are angry... And hateful... But you know that they are doing it for your own soul release.... And that you are actually paying for it... So you surrender and you let it go.... And relax.... And become pulpy..... Inside and out
And when you leave, hours later, full of stories and clean, you can face the world with newly found tenderness.
This morning, I went for a long swim in the large pool at the hotel.
It was so great to exercise again.
I miss it so much when I travel.
I also find that I am unbalanced a bit, missing my painting time in the studio.
Doodling is just not the same.
I think I gained ten pounds in the last three weeks of travel.
Everybody invites us to join them as they eat.... And it is hard to say no.
They are so insistent and generous in spirit, And I do not want to offend anyone.... And the food is Sooooo good, but very rich....
It is hard to believe that it has been almost three weeks......
In two days, we fly back to Colorado.
I have seen, and collected so many stories, but had only a short time to process and write it all.
I may do so upon our return.
We finished our coffee and we stand by the ancient wall on the water's edge, when I hear a young American woman, next to me, saying: "I should really Facebook this shit."
I never heard FB used as a verb before....
I am thinking I should do the same..
I should really Facebook this shit.
It is THE oldest, continually lived in city,......In the WHOLE WORLD.
Can you imagine this?
Oh, the folly of my youth....
I used to come here to Akko, when I was a very young woman.
I always loved it here..... But for the wrong reasons.
I used to come here, for massive Rave parties by the beach, (when they just originated), filled with dope, dance and ecstasy.
I used to eat with the fishermen, always high and hungry with the 'munchies'.
I never read about the history of the place, never tried to hear the local stories, old OR new....
I am amazed now, by how rich in vibrations this place really is.
Every stone tells a story.
Nobody knows how old this city actually is, but it was already in existence 5000 years ago, and it was mentioned in the Chronicles of one of the Pharaohs.
It has changed hands, of course through the years, as men warred, conquered and occupied it again and agin.
It was under the rule of King David, Salomon, Alexander the Great, the Romans, Julius Caesar passed through it, and even Napoleon tried to occupy it.
More recently, It was in the hands of the Ottoman Turkish empire and the British empire.
It was also the site of the Jewish "Bar Kochba" Revolt, in which many Jews were killed by the Romans. (I do not think I mentioned before that my last name was Bar Kochba, when I was married to Roni.... Until I revolted....)
Now, it is mostly an Arab city, that is part of Israel.
Which means that the Arabs living here, carry an Israeli ID cards and passports.
The streets are filled with crowded stores, selling spices, fresh produce, marinated pickles, delicious Arab bakeries, Hummus restaurants, smoky coffee houses (I am sitting in one now, as I write this. All this strong Arab coffee, is making my heart race faster, I am not used to drinking so much strong coffee so often.)
The smell in the streets is a rich aroma. The one scent that jump into my nostrils, is the smell of Musk perfume (it is like a Patchouli), it used to be a favorite among young teenage women, 30 years ago.
Aparently, it still being sold by the weigh, in lovely bottles.
We just finished a visit to the Turkish Hammam baths, which are ancient communal baths, converted now to a museum.
The Turkish music, that is playing on the speakers, is so soulful.... I am carried away, on the waves of my imagination.
The Hammam's attendants, were real story tellers.
It was part of their job description.
One would come from the dusty streets, to clean more than their bodies, they came to refresh their spirits too.
To soak in the hot steams, but also to soak in the cultural stories.
The stories being told, although dipped in myth and embellishments, were usually of historical nature.
They told stories of strong conquerors, being defeated and trapped, of vicious rulers, cutting limbs and heads.
Since the Hammam started in the Turkish rule, most stories revolved around the iron hand ruler, named El Jezzar.
The attendants were also body workers and massage therapists that also did emotional release for their visitors.
If you ever saw a Hamman massage treatment being done, you must know that it is a PAINFUL and CLEANSING experience.
They rub your skin until it is raw.
They twist your limbs until you cry.
They massage you with their large calloused hands, until you feel like you are being held in a symbolic Father figure's hands.
And,
They smack you with Eucalyptus brunches, until you are angry... And hateful... But you know that they are doing it for your own soul release.... And that you are actually paying for it... So you surrender and you let it go.... And relax.... And become pulpy..... Inside and out
And when you leave, hours later, full of stories and clean, you can face the world with newly found tenderness.
This morning, I went for a long swim in the large pool at the hotel.
It was so great to exercise again.
I miss it so much when I travel.
I also find that I am unbalanced a bit, missing my painting time in the studio.
Doodling is just not the same.
I think I gained ten pounds in the last three weeks of travel.
Everybody invites us to join them as they eat.... And it is hard to say no.
They are so insistent and generous in spirit, And I do not want to offend anyone.... And the food is Sooooo good, but very rich....
It is hard to believe that it has been almost three weeks......
In two days, we fly back to Colorado.
I have seen, and collected so many stories, but had only a short time to process and write it all.
I may do so upon our return.
We finished our coffee and we stand by the ancient wall on the water's edge, when I hear a young American woman, next to me, saying: "I should really Facebook this shit."
I never heard FB used as a verb before....
I am thinking I should do the same..
I should really Facebook this shit.
