Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
“Fangoo. I no like'a New York. Too many Jew.”
We laughed and drifted off anticipating another adventure.
Tel Aviv was too much like New York, with a preoccupation on bombs and instant death
so pervasive that it colored every minute. People threw trash on the ground, because trash
everywhere would make no difference if you were dead. They weren't yet dead but could be
dead at any moment and would surely hate to waste the effort of cleaning up.
We took a daytrip to the Red Sea and sat up in the water with no flotation. We talked
with a lonely Arab whose hotel had been shot to smithereens by both sides. In Jericho we
saw fourteen-year-old boys in open shirts and flip-flops with machine guns slung over their
shoulders—boys with no youthful innocence or adolescent machismo; these boys seemed war
weary. Anxiety depression prevailed. Joy seemed isolated and out of context. Even the pro-
spect of sexual fulfillment at last seemed best postponed, except that such things are not ra-
tionally processed.
Well, it was a great burden to be rid of, not so much the physical build up as the peer-pres-
sure burden. Unfucked during that summer indicated abnormality. A grand tour was meant
to alleviate inexperience on all levels, and the doors were open to opportunity. Still, those of
us who took awhile longer to cross that rudimentary threshold were relieved of a significant
burden.
Crossing that threshold for my associate in sexuality and me was a coarse, quick exchange
between a madly lusting boy and a young woman of uncertain depth or substance. She insis-
ted on what she knew with oscillating chatter. We arrived directly at premature ejaculation
and nothing more to say. I was glad to be rid of the pent up pecker juice and she who'd played
her part. I'm certain she'd hoped for more romance, more attention, more cavalier wit, more
of anything to value in her memory trousseau.
David and Bruno had discreetly left the room to grant some privacy to my partner in des-
peration and me for the few minutes we would need to lighten our mutual load. They came
back and wanted to know how it was. I lied, telling them it was great. It wasn't great, but it
made room for another try with less urgency, more deliberation and maybe better company.
Things could develop more slowly next time with more exchange, maybe, I thought. Then
again, that's what happened in Spain and failed on deliberation where a pounce and fucking
were in need.
Well . . .
We turned in at ten. By midnight I woke with a gasp, hardly able to breathe.
It was my first night indoors in eight weeks. Staggering to the window I leaned out to gulp
the fresher air. I'd seen movies with wild boys who couldn't sleep in beds. It was true; anything
less than the great outdoors and all that air was stifling.
The next day we took a bus to Jerusalem and found a cheaper place and met Abraham,
an Arab our age who envied the youth brigade and wanted in. Abraham asked if we liked to
