Day 13: Julia Joins

I woke up early and drove to Deer Isle. Julia packed her bags and the pieces she made during the workshops, we said our goodbyes and left. We stopped at Searsport for lunch, and we also bought a piece of blueberry pie which we ate an hour later as we were pumping gas. We then drove to Boston. Well, Julia was driving. I slept.

First stop in Boston was the Media Lab. We returned the camping equipment I borrowed, the stove and the cooler, to their rightful owners (thank you Andy B.! Thank you NovySan!) and then we drove to our old apartment, to fulfill the secret mission.

Before leaving Boston, We hid four boxes with our stuff in the basement of our building, and we made copies of the keys, so we can access the basement and get our stuff as we travel from Deer Isle to Maryland. I couldn’t take these with me on my first trip there simply because there was not enough room in the car. So there, this is the secret mission.

Sadly, it was raining when we arrived to Boston, and by the time we were carrying our stuff from the basement to the car, it was pouring. We were finally done with that, but the came the hard part – installing the bike-rack on the back of the car. By the time we were done, we were soaked.

It was pouring two years ago as well, when I arrived to Boston in the middle of the summer. Back then I was surprised. This time I just went like “yeah, thanks a lot, fucking Boston. Goodbye to you too!”.

We drove for about an hour in our wet close until we had enough. We pulled over in a service plaza, changed our clothes in the bathrooms. We drove some more until we hit Sturbridge MA. We found a cute restaurant called the Whistling Swan, where there was a guy singing with a guitar. The food was great too. We went back to the hotel and went to bed.

Day 8: Nervous Nelly

After all that driving the previous day, it turned out I had only about 2 hours of driving left to get to Haystack.

I passed this place:

Doesn’t sound like a good business plan. No wonder it’s for sale:

In Deer Island I passed by a sign that said “Nervous Nelly’s jam and jellies”. I noticed that sign a week ago, when I brought Julia to Haystack. My attention was drawn to that sign also due to two human like sculptures. This time, I decided to stop and check it out. I tend not to use this expression , but – OH, MY, GOD!

There were several small shacks, filled with weird, cute, and disturbing sculptures of humans, engaged in daily activities. I can’t explain it, so I took pictures of EVERYTHING.

The sculptures are by a dude called Peter Beerits. He also writes stories about these characters, illustrates them, prints booklets and sells them in the store, where Nelly sells her amazing jams, jellies and chutneys. Some of them are very unconventional, like hot tomato chutney and jalapeño. I know they’re amazing because you can taste them all.

I left that place very inspired and with a strong desire to stop moving around and get a house in the country, where I too can make crazy stuff. Maybe in a few years.

Then I got to Haystack. It was so great seeing Julia again. She took me to see the work that is being done in the different shops. It’s so awesome and creative. What’s really amazing about it is that people not just learn techniques from wonderful artists, they also get to play around with the craft.

We started driving to Boston, not before I took Julia to see the sculptures at Nervous Nelly’s. We discovered a whole are in the back with even stranger sculptures.

We got to to Needham, a suburb of Boston, where my friend Ran lives. He gave us a great room for the night. We filled some forms regarding the car accident I was involved in, made sure we have everything for the meeting at the French consulate, and fell asleep.

Day 3: Goodbye Boston

Today, was so stressful… I slept so bad last night, mostly because I went to bed drunk, but also since I had to sleep on the old sofa. Arggghh! The damn sofa! As I was waiting for Eyal (also known in the Lab as “the OTHER Eyal”, since I got to the lab first) I found in may email inbox some good news - we have a contract for the apartment in Paris. The bad news - I had to pay the fees to the agency, and my credit cards would not let me spend that amount. So I made some phone calls and sent some emails and hopefully by tomorrow morning it will all be resolved. Why do I deserve all this stress?!

One noteworthy call was with my bank, as I was asking them to allow me to charge my visa with more money that I have.

- “Sir, you have a $1000 limit on your card.”

- “I know, that’s why I’m calling. I need more.”

- “Well, I can transfer money from your checking account to your Visa account”.

This is totally not the way things work in Israel. I’m so confused.

- “I think that’s exactly what I want”

- “How much do you need ?”

- “Like 900 something Euros.”

- “Sir, I need an exact number.”

- “Hold on, I have the email… I need 994.09 Euros.”

- “Sir, I can also transfer US dollars”

- “O.K., so however that much it is dollars”

- “Sir, I don’t know how much it is.”

Is she kidding? also, if she calls me “sir” one more time….

- “hold on, let me google that for you.”

I was so pleased with myself…

I was then comforted by some more good news - we have an appointment at the French consulate on Monday. We actually have one appointment for the both of us, which I think is a good sign: it means that the French dudes understand the urgency of our case.

The other Eyal came and helped me take the stupid sofa to his place, form where he’ll get rid of it on garbage collection day, basically saving my ass. In Israel it would have been so much easier getting rid of a couch. I’m not sure what that implies about Israel. Or America.

Now the apartment was finally empty, and it was time to return the keys to the landlady. I also gave her a cup Julia made as a present, and in return she gave me some fruit for the road:

I really don’t know what the small things are. She said they’re Chinese. I believe her (Edit - they turned out to be lichees, with a peel that is much darker than I’m used to).

I started driving towards Maryland. I stopped for lunch at Harry’s, in Westborough, MA. I got the “Boneless chicken breast deluxe”, also known in Israel as Schintzel.

Then I drove some more - a lot more actually. I made a stop in a visitor center, right at the border of Connecticut. There I saw a gate that said “Please close gate behind you”. That means you can go through! I went in to discover a catch-and-release trout fishing area. Being the only only one around, I started walking along the riverbank, and after ten minutes or so sat down, got a book from my backpack, and read for a while.

Yeah, I know it’s very pretty. I was also thinking how in Israel, a place like this would be a big thing: ooh - water! and green trees! and we’d probably have some stories about this place from the time of the Romans, and the crusaders, and the war of Independence, and they would fence it and charge money at the entrance. Here, in America, it’s just a stream where you catch trout.

After getting tired of reading and getting bit by mosquitoes, I continued driving and ended up in Danbury, CT. After checking in at the local Super-8 motel I went to the Molly Darcy bar. It’s an Irish pub, with the heavy wood and the Irish bartender with heavy Irish accent complaining about his Irish health - the whole deal! Had a couple of beers and the spinach salad while I was watching the Olympics. In fact, two TV screens were showing the Olympics games - men basketball and women football (soccer, if you’re an American). on two other TV screens were more American sports - baseball and poker. The differences in the  appearances of the participants is astounding - everybody is so fit in basket ball and soccer. I don’t need to describe baseball players, football players, or, god forbid - poker. Makes you think, doesn’t it ? Are baseball and basketball more popular in America because you can play them even if you’re fat, or were these sports invented for an obese nation?

While we’re at it, am I the only one who finds it absurd that McDonald’s and Coca Cola sponsor the American Olympics teams?