Deep breaths old man...

Last night I sat with a group of Israelis – one of whom was the mother of one of the girls. They had prepared pasta and had invited me as I passed their house. As I sat with them, I realized that maybe I have a long way to go with this whole love thing. There was so much love in this group – rapturous smiles, hugging, declarations of it (love, that is). It made me lose my appetite. The mother often reminded everyone present to speak English on my behalf. Yes it was very generous and sweet but it meant I had less of an excuse to escape the nauseating lovey-doveyness and go vomit in my hammock.

It was nice, really, but as I was sitting there trying to return the constantly beaming smiles of all present, my face ached. I guess love is all very well and good, but to give FULL love like these guys it probably helps if they are mostly your family and close friends from back home. You know, I had love to give them, I just didn’t feel like doing it in front of their mother.

Sorry. It always goes base.

So, anyway, there was (to quote, I think, Led Zep) a whole lotta love. But then something kinda jolted me out of it. After the food was finished and everyone was starting to disperse, I got up to go to the toilet. On reaching the toilet I was greeted by the intense and beady-eyed stare of an old big-bearded man. Not quite sure what was going on behind those eyes, I made light conversation and asked if what he was loitering outside was the toilet. I explained I was after one just like it.

He said, with a panicked face, “is it your toilet? Do you stay here? Where do you stay?”

Unsure exactly how to tackle these three tautological demands, I responded, “no, but I thought I might give it a go. I’m with these guys,” and I pointed to the area we’d been sitting outside, eating. With hushed and sinister tones he said, “yes of course, they’re everywhere. They’re ruining this place, you know.”

At this point I realised three things. One, this man was English. Two, he was clearly referring to the ‘Israeli problem’ and three, he looked like he’d been stewing in his room for about two weeks on this. He looked pissed (off).

Then he said, “you’re an Englishman right? Well, I’ve been coming here for thirty five years and they’re ruining this place. You can see it on the faces of the local people. They’re everywhere. And look, someone’s put toilet paper down the toilet. It’ll get blocked now. They don’t know what they’re doing here!”

I was concerned he was going to have some kind of toilet-paper-frustration-induced coronary. “Ahh, you don’t understand.”

Of course I understand. But what could I say? I said, pointing to my loved-up friends, “these are good people. Have you tried talking to them? They spent all evening speaking English for me. Surely everyone has just as much right to turn up to these places in India.”

He sighed. Why the fuck was he taking it out on me? He’s an old man, if he wants to whinge, can’t he do it to people’s faces?

He mumbled something else about the last Israeli to use the toilet breaking the flimsy door handle (that fucker!) and then stormed off, angry and apparently full-bladdered.

What could I do? I took a piss.

This guy annoyed me, but I understand his problem. Making broad generalisations, individually, Israelis are beautiful people (you should watch them undress – sorry, I went there again!). They are generous, welcoming, honest and open. However, groups of them can often be noisy, obnoxious, rude and argumentative. And this is for, I think, two reasons. One, groups of anyone (if you aren’t in that group) can be loud, exclusive and annoying. Try to imagine a large group of English people – I saw this in Goa and it is the definition of arse.

Secondly, and this is what the dude was really talking about (though stuttering, confused and blinded by his own escalating hatred), Israelis come to India regardless of who they are. Europeans, Americans etc – people from these countries usually come to India because they were ‘called here’. We come because we want a challenge and India sounds like hard work. We want to see a radically different culture and have time to ourselves and explore and visit religious sites and temples. For some Israelis it is also like this. For most, they just come. “India’s cheap. All my friends are going. It’s fashionable. You can get stoned all day for nothing. Wahey. Shalom India.”

And this is the problem. Half the enormous Israeli population of India were called here on a spiritual quest and become truly amazing individuals. The other half, it seems, turned up just to piss everyone else off. It’s highly possible that by the end of their trip they may have acquired some of the sensitivity necessary to get along in India (sensitivity that two-three years in the army has shattered.) But if you’re meeting them at the start of their trip, filled with distrust, suspicion and irritating habits of home – then yes, they are unbearable.

It seems that with a few exceptions, every guesthouse in Kasar Devi, this sleepy, cute Indian village is hosting just Israelis.

Pleasant one to one conversations with Israelis in a chai shop often become besieged by ‘acquaintances’. You can find yourself surrounded by other Israelis and then a conversation that was in English becomes interrupted by someone talking to that person in Hebrew which not only ends my conversation but utterly excludes me from being able to participate. Previously in my trip I would solve this problem by playing my guitar. Now? I just leave. Simple.

The ‘Israeli problem’ is not so much a problem for me. I am living a hermit’s life at the moment. I can always retreat to my hammock to read some entertaining Martin Amis essays (I’m so English – but it’s all I could find on the bookshelf) and amuse myself, only making public appearances to surf the internet or eat food.

Besides, discussing it as a ‘problem’ suggests there’s a ‘solution’. And I do remember some of my history lessons.

Today is Passover, one of the most important Jewish holidays, comparable to Christmas in terms of significance. I hope the old English baba stays well away. We don’t want WWIII.

Over and out.

Though quick postscript – check out the MP3s of Semi Squared and The Burning Dice, linked on here somewhere. I like to plug my friends you know. This Myspace.com is taking over the world.