Winter was just a bad invention. What's the use of a cold season, anyway? None that I can see...
Ever heard of a condition called Seasonal Affective Disorder (aka. SAD hehehe)? Basically, SAD is a sort of temporary, seasonal (winter, of course) depression brought on by a lack of exposure to enough bright natural light. I've always maintained that there is a marked difference between exposure to natural sunlight versus to fluorescent lights such as those you might find in a classroom or some sort of industrial setting. Anyway, those individuals more sensitive to differing light levels may find themselves depressed during the winter months from the lessened exposure to bright light. This depression, so they say, manifests itself in many way - including weight gain brought on by increased intake of carbohydrates.
So where am I going with all this? Well, to use a too-often-used phrase, spring has sprung here and I find myself in paradise once again. And on days like this, how can anyone afford not to spend most of the day outside? Even those of us who either work or attend school are better served by taking our laptops outdoors and working out in the sun. As I write this, in fact, I am outside at a coffee shop enjoying the lovely weather. One of these days, I'll get myself to the beach...problem is, laptops and sand don't mix so well.
What is the point of all of this mindless drivel, you may ask? This: why stay indoors when you can be out enjoying the sun? It isn't just a case of tanning or laying out, as they call it; no, exposure to bright sunlight has even been shown to have positive effects on your health. And that's an offer that you simply cannot refuse.
It's cold on the East Coast this time of year; whatever possessed me to return to Virginia in March, anyway? Well, lesson learned: never again, as they say.
It's the end of the month, and I have finally returned home - to a nearly-stifling 95-degree (Fahrenheit) day. But hey, anything's better than the Virginia winter chill, constant rain, and even threat of snow. This is exactly the right kind of day to be spent at the beach; a mere two blocks from my apartment here. And this isn't just any beach - this is the Mediterranean, baby. They can say whatever they want about the beaches of California and Florida, but this wins hands-down. Only the lack of a bathing suit stops me from diving into the water at the high point of the day. But one does not necessarily need to swim in order to enjoy the beach. Sunbathing is the oldest time-killer, anyway.
This is the place and the day to get out and attempt to get a tan. I got the shorter end of my mixed Semitic-Celtic family's stick: the fair skin which refuses to tan without first getting burned. This is not to say that I don't try: sunscreen is your friend, people. But even sunscreen doesn't protect my skin well enough. Well, no matter: it's a hot day, the beach is here, and I have plenty of reading material and new sunglasses.
And who says that you must be making good use of your time at all times, anyway? Isn't there something to be said for simply resting on the beach doing nothing at all for a few hours? That's the American voice within us, always whispering efficiency, efficiency. The rest of the world understands the impulse to just enjoy the moment; America just doesn't quite get the hang of it. Everything has to move so quickly - even in restaurants, you're brought your check as soon as you indicate that you're finished. Where I live, you won't get your check until you ask for it. This is the case at least in Europe, the Middle East, and Latin America. It's just a healthier lifestyle in general, I think.
The place was a hostel, rather than a hotel; therefore, it was considerably less fancy that the Crown Plaza, Dan Panorama, and others which were only a stone's throw away. But we're graduate students so this is the life that we live. Nevertheless, the place was nice (as hostels go). The best part, however, was that the room that we stayed in had two large windows. As soon as we checked into the room, I opened both windows, leaned out one and admired the view - the airport and highway north on one side, the Promenade and beach in front of the mountains of Aqaba on the other. It's February, yet the Red Sea coast was warm, and we were happy to get away from our respective apartments, and our respective assignments yet to be written.
The best part of traveling (on vacation, that is) is the lack of responsibility inherent in such trips. You're there to have fun, and as such can relax in a way that you never can at home surrounded by family, work, or school. Leaning out that window and breathing the warm air was in a way liberating - it let in the sun and the fresh air and allowed the room to be infused with the environment around it. It is always best to be outside when you can, anyway.
The best part was that we had the next 24 hours ahead of us to walk, relax on the beach, admire the scenery, or do whatever else we wanted. And I looked out at the deep aquamarine of the Red Sea on such a beautiful day and considered myself lucky. After all, how many people get here? And I live in this country and can come here any time I want.
I have a friend who regularly sends me packages full of various little things, almost all of them purple. This morning, I received a package which contained, among other things, coffee-themed socks, instant snow (just add water!), a ring in a pretty little box, a card-holder, and a small piece of art entitled "Winter Moment."
As I am about to travel back to the United States to visit, I started thinking of what I might put together for her. She, as you may have guessed from the socks, is a bit of a coffee addict. This makes her super-hyper, but it also makes her easy to shop for in the Middle East. I'm thinking of getting her several different kinds of coffee - a few packages of Turkish coffee, some ground espresso, and maybe a few other things, including possibly a small specialty silver coffee kettle. I'm going to take all of these, wrap them carefully in bubble wrap and wrapping paper, and stow them in my carry-on bag for safe-keeping on an 11-hour flight back to New York. Almost everyone, not just her, is getting coffee this time around.
I think that shopping is a girl gene, so if you guys are not amused by this, I apologize. It's fun for us women to try and envision things that our friends might love, and them going out and putting them together. I have another friend who is a painter who I love buying gifts for, because I can hunt for the smallest most funky-looking things, and she'll love them. I got her a small string of Jerusalem pottery bells.
The best part, however, is the look on the friend's face when he/she opens the package. :)
Just last week, while in Eilat with a friend, I had the pleasure of a rare encounter. I was born and raised in a Northeastern culture in the States, so I don't talk to strangers under any circumstances. My friend, however, is from the Midwest and is far more comfortable being friendly to people. She'll chat up anyone. As we were sitting outside in Eilat, having just gotten off of a 5-hour bus ride, she said hello to someone who turned out to be an American tourist from Seattle, Washington.
And it doesn't end there. My friend is a military history fan (working on getting into a PhD program in Military History for the Civil War) and this man revealed that he had been a colonel in the United States Infantry Corps. A few minutes later, he revealed to us the real treat: he had fought in World War 2, and not only that - he had taken part in the Normandy Landing! (101st Airborne, Utah Beach)
It isn't every day that you meet someone who seems to jump off of the pages of your high school history books. For those of us in our 20s, World War 2 is something that we know (especially as Jews); we know the name "Normandy" and we know its significance. However, few of us ever get to meet someone who participated in one of those historic events. It was a real treat for both of us.
And it only gets sweeter. An Israeli sitting nearby, security personnel on a Birthright trip, happened to overhear the conversation, and turned to this man, and said "sir, I would like to thank you."
After another 20 minutes or so of conversation, we ourselves thanked him, and got up to leave.
