A journey that we we're both on, be it a little different has come to a fork in the road, with her headed of to hug some African Babies, and I head off to, well, avoid the hugging of children for fear of criminal offence in England. With all the crazy shinanigans we got up to, and all the wafflers we consumed over the many existential moments, we really should have made a hoodie.
I'm sure the next part of your journey will be just as exciting, even more so I hope. I'll be eagerly following your journey, creepily from behind my computer screen. http://onetimeonmygapyear.blogspot.com/ :D
Having said goodbye to one friend already that week, it was even harder to see another one go so soon, leaving The Adventure Squad down two members, and in a bit of an emotional shambles. Jess, my American friend, was too heading home to a Boy Friend, New life and a whole bunch of ARDC nostalgia back in the land of the free. A crazy weekend of jolling was eminent in the dark smudges of sleeplessness under her eyes as she smiled, ever so brightly through mouthfulls of falafel, that she managed to get all over her face would be the way I would remember her. She had treated me to an insight into ARDC lifestyle with a meal at their Ethiopian resturant, including Ethiopian Beer, and a night out for some Tel Aviv trendoid time in a small bar somewhere(I'm not so sure about the location). But it was cool. The icey lemonade qwenched my thirst from the eventful dinner, and the insanely spice-y Ethiopian dish and the talkativeness of the gguy at the table behind us, who was obviously telling an epic story.
With Jess, you always seem to get into situations that are somewhat difficult to get out of, but with her bright eyed charm; fast talking American-ness you know it'll all be alright.
For our last adventure, we picniced in the Peace Garden of Beit Shmuel and joined a Liberal Protest with Hashomer Hatzaier and went on a graffitti scavenger hunt through the streets of Jerusalem. We laughed and talked and made even more of a mess of ourselves than we had been before. It was the dreaded time for goodbyes again, and we left her, with a skip in her step at the entrance to the Tachanah Marcazit, with hugs and smiles and the promise to write and email and skype.
