Life resumed today, like a slap in the face. Actually, that’s harsh; it wasn’t a slap in the face, but more like a friendly pat on the cheek. I have it so good here: Solid, likable job. Affordable, yet comfy, apartment. Married to an Australian… Oh, I’m not supposed to focus on the Australia bit before I’m even over jet lag, right?
It’s just that, lately, I’ve been wondering what I could be doing ‘out there’. Because Australia isn’t a place where I grew up, it was totally new and it got me thinking about how big the world is and how short life is. How much I could be doing and how I’m supposed to prioritize.
Both of us came back to work saying how much we enjoyed Australia, and all of a sudden people on both ends made yerida jokes, only, they may not have been jokes; I couldn’t really tell. Why can’t you love a place besides Israel? Or as much as Israel? Or maybe even more?
At a barbecue yesterday, someone asked how Australia was. I said it was amazing. He said: “But not as amazing as Israel right? Sure, it’s pretty, but it’s not as great Israel?” And I said, “Actually, Israel is a pretty fucked-up place. It can be great, but it needs work.” I wasn’t going to push it after he gave me a bit of a disgusted look.
I guess I’m a bit frustrated and a little claustrophobic. It was comfortable to flirt with a different setting for a month. Harmless flirting, right? Australia was so big and vast and utopian. What’s wrong with falling in love with that?