This is not a blog post about hostels nor is it about Israel,
but about traveling.

My story has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience, which seeks not to annoy, offed nor irritate anyone and must be taken at limited liability. “Kitzer” (קיצר) is the slang word in Hebrew for “in short”. It is also what I usually say before telling very long story…

so, if you’re not into long, interesting and great stories – stop reading. Kitzer…

Whenever I travel, I always find God.

There is no other way to travel, except for outside of your comfort zone. I have not yet arrived my destination, but here to invite you to travel outside of your comfort zone – exploring the world by words only.

Whenever I travel, I always run into God.
Even without looking for Him, neither even knowing whether I believe in Her or not, it always seems to pop up. It is a word, in a sentence – being said by someone who travels and say “there – I could find God”.

“Whenever I travel, I can feel God“, she said, several years ago, I reckon…She was a German nurse I’ve met in Tel Aviv, working at the Gordon Inn Hostel as a receptionist. And yes – she was exactly what you’d imagine a German nurse to be like – in looks as well as in character, with two dimples.

And yes, Dimples’s looks, as well as her profession and REAL NAME were exactly like my mother’s. But no, there’s no hidden Freudian layer  to it…

So she did feel God, so she said, saw & heard him as well – in her line of work as a Hospice nurse. Sitting on the Gordon Inn rooftop above the city’s neon lights, the sound of it’s streets and wavy winter shore, she told of her day to day, “there, I just escort people on their last travel… Nobody like doing THAT trip alone…”.

As a person working in tourism, not sure yet of as to which end am I there, I found it hard to compare traveling to being in a hospice. I couldn’t avoid remembering the book “Himmo, King of Jerusalem” by Yoram Kaniuk – telling the story of a nurse escorting an injured soldier. Just like her, Dimples took her living out of the care and the philosophy of care to the terminally ill patients, attending to their emotional and spiritual needs.

Perhaps that’s what made her so sensitive to these matters…

“But what do you mean”, I wanted to know, “You SAW God? Or felt it? Or him, or her…?”. Looking at me, her bright hair blowing in the dark evening’s wind, she looked as if she wanted to explain something, but could not find the words for it. “I want to explain it, but can’t find the words for it”, she said, “never did. But, I can tell you of how to find it yourself”.

“I don’t look for God”, I replied. As an Israeli Jew, or perhaps as a Jewish Israeli – you’re always haunted by God, whether you deal with it or not… Can’t tell you if we Jews ARE the chosen people, but mankind – which you meet a plenty working in the travel industry – did solemnly agreed at to least to relate us to the Idea of God. Hell, even if I don’t believe in God – the mere fact that I say I don’t, still makes me refer to the big G.

A traveler once told me, that in many folk tales and epic sagas mankind is represented by a woman, to which noble knights and poor peasants serve her equality. Mankind keeps looking for happiness, and her numerous lovers dedicate all of their energy, vitality and genius to fulfill her desire. And with that, I was now sent by that German representative of Mankind to look for God: Apparently, it does exist – for now, at least for sure in people ideas and words.

“In Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, there – I could find God”. And as simple as that, Dimples has had the words to tell me exactly where I could meet him up. Now, I had to go out on my out of my comfort zone, to try and understand what’s that all about that makes people keep looking for God. Knowing the path’s a gonna take me to Ireland, I immediately booked a flight – to Delhi, India.

So many stairs…

After working for a long while in a hostel, wanting and failing to open a hostel of my own, I’ve decided to take the path of the righteous and go traveling. As a traveler who’s style is more of a New Zealand & Australia type of traveling, as to why was I due for India – well, just like any other big-time-wannabe traveler, I wanted to outdo my predecessor travelers: so, competing with no others than Alexander the Great, as well as with Hercules, off course – I went to Asia.

Long story short, not long after I’ve arrived, an injury which involved a torn leg tore my whole plans apart, and found myself up in the Himalayas for the winter, in the district of Ladakh, at the town of Leh. Wounded & winded up in the thin-snowy-desert air of Tibetan India, spending the entire off-season among the sleepy & cozy dwellings of the local Buddhists. Thar whole stay could be portrayed in a Hemingway style of writing, except for instead of drinking an alcoholic drink every second page or so, my story of being broken and healing up would involve plenty of butter tea drinking and Thenthuk soup devouring.

There, without looking for God of any type, I kept running into many Gods, Bodhisattvas and numerous demigods of the Buddhist faith. As a person who studied history, who could barely walk with his crutches, I could – however – sit, drink tea and talk to old Tibetan tea-makers during the Himalayan winter. Thus, found myself up to many politics & religion conversations… Not sure which was harder, those long culture-gap-rehabilitation conversations or climbing all of those staircases – everywhere – Buddhist love so very much…

Locals were scarce, but tourists were nowhere to be found. The only foreigners were some “demi-tourists” who’re there for so a long of a period, what they blend in, almost completely: The French wildlife photographer, going up to the mountains and camouflaging himself in order to take photos of snow leopards – well, he was off course, hard to find. Another foreigner – a British guy – I’ve barely recognized among the Yak-wool covered . Him I found at my hosting family’s back yard, at the great Jigmet Guesthouse.

His name was ____, which I can’t remember… It happens to me a lot while traveling – I keep forgetting the other person’s name, even while we’re shaking hands and telling our names to each other. I… can’t really tell why nor to justify it, so my apologies to anyone I’ve met while traveling – if you happen to be reading this… In my mind the British dude was called “Monty”, cause he did have that “Monty Python” vibe going on, in particular the haggling scene. Moreover, I remember his peculiar reason for being up the Himalaya during winter.

Monty was “looking for God, going after Jesus”, he said. Thinking that was odd, I told him “well, I think that’s odd… You do know the whole Jesus thing IS a thing around Jerusalem & Nazareth, right?”. Monty was, apparently, more keen on looking for J’ up the Himalaya…

As an Israeli traveler looking for the German recommended Irish God, I had to ask: “What?…”. Unlike the general belief regarding Jesus traveling Israel between the Galilee, Jerusalem and the Dead Sea – Monty was fully into another beliefs (who knew there were not only one, but many?…). The “unknown years of Jesus” between the age of 12 and 18 (at around year 12 to 18 AD). According to which, not only did Hercules went east to find his glory and his way to the Gods, not only did Alexander the Great, but also Jesus – went looking far east…

It is a theory, which – ironically enough – reached modern times by a historian traveler to Ladakh, who had a leg injury and got stuck there during winter… It is a long story, actually many stories woven into one which I shall not utter here. But there is a funny book about it…

Back to Monty, he was not going after some esoteric conspiracy theory, but after what’s regarded as the “normal” version of history in areas of Ladakh, in Kashmir and several other locations on earth. In that version, Jesus – or “Issa” as he is referred to in Kashmir – took the “Silk Route” east from Israel, and during 18 years went there and back again to India.

There, in Hemis monastery in specific, learning oriental lure, mixing it up with his conviction of religion (be it Jewish or any other version), Jesus came up with some new ideas. Was it the local intellectual & substances he used? Or perhaps the historic avalanche of cultural pillars he learned of, all traveling to find God? Abraham, Hercules & Alexander and the “local” pillar of Siddhārtha Gautama, AKA Buddha – weren’t them all told to “go from your land, from your birthplace and from your father’s house, to the land which I will show you”, AKA – “Go travel“? 

But wait, WHAT???

Jesus went from Israel to Kashmir, then to Tibet, then to India and back to Israel? That sound too much like a 21 years old typical modern Israeli traveler… That was too much for my not-looking-for-any-deep-meaning-not-to-mention-god mentality of travel. So, I’ve dropped it, just to pick up the trail several years later, when I finally went to Ireland.

It was after travel-healing (which usually comes together) in India, back in Israel, I started working for the ILH – Israel Hostels‘ association. In my capacity as the manager of the association, I was sent to the Hostel World Conference in Dublin, to network, mingle and learn a bit of our professional independent tourism industry. So yeah, I can tell you that “to be honest – I did not go to Ireland in specific after what the German nurse told me, looking for God, but as an opportunity in my line of work”. Or, I can spare you that, depends on what I want you to think of my reasons for going there…

Anyway, landing in Dublin – as a person in the hostels industry – I had to travel Ireland before the conference. Picked “meself” a car, and went roaming the Island. It was 10 years to the day after my first “Big” trip to New Zealand and Australia, so I started out of Dublin in a random direction, remembering that travel-company’s theme from Australia “the road less traveled leads to the finest adventure”. And, hopefully – to some Irish Pixies.

Anyhow, 2 days drive around the island led me eventually to the Cliffs of Moher. There, God and the land that was promised (by that certain German nurse) was waiting. But, driving for so long, I had – first of all – take a short travel to the toilet. Of that amazing trip, I can’t tell you not much then of the corresponding ultra-touristic experience of entering the park, the museum, the souvenir shop, the restaurant… So after using the toilet and some shopping, I was finally ready to meet my maker!

Going out, I started up the slope. Rain was beating hard, wind was blowing even harder. I just kept on keeping on, as like in any dramatic travel climax, memories of other travels flooded my mind: Hiking New Zealand came to memory, where walking through a waterfall (which at times was just a random extremely violent rain) was a daily thing. The boots on my feet, had the markings of all of our steps, across the Australian Outback or amid the Israeli desert, from the Greek shore, through the Thai one to the Sea of Galilee… You can truly learn only through your feet.

Several years before, on the Tel Avivian roof top Dimples told described that moment where she saw god – “The swirling sky above, the void and raging sea below, the wind blowing… I know it’s just nature, but not just. You have to feel it”. going up the rainy slope towards the cliffs, an alarming vision of my meeting with God came to mind in shape and looks of the Indiana Jones’ “Raiders of the Lost Ark“. I reckoned Dimples might have had something else in mind, more kinda like “the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters”.

Climbing the slippery Irish weather-torn slope, the marked path up disappeared. The rain has turned the slope into a mud slide, which left passable only the narrow brink between the path and the cliff’s void. The few tourists who dared going out in this harsh weather gave up and turned back, clumsily trying to bypass me on their slippery way down.

My torn ankle from India, together with the memory of losing my footing during a trek to Malana in India (around where Alexander failed to go on more than 2,000 years ago) – made me look down, and carefully find my footing. The slippery sloppy slope roaring at the wind on the edge of the cliff left me with no other choice, but look down and down only. My mud-sunken boots made it even harder to keep any holding, so “hell”, I thought, “might just as well take’em off…”. After all, last time someone went to meet with him he did say “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground”.

Like in many travel stories, at that exact moment, my camera ran out of juice as well… whatever was about to unfold in front of me, was to be documented by my memory alone, walking barefooted at the edge of ancient western world.

Reaching the top, I had to find shelter off the blowing wind at the edge of the cliff, so I just sat down in the mud, holding my ground. And then – I saw it: MUD. Everywhere.

I felt like an idiot… Imagining Dimples here, in awe of the splendor of creation in front of her, feeling the presence of what she called “God”, whereas all I could see was just me, myself and mud. I’ve traveled for so long, just to be sitting in the mud, rain and wind, in front of a grey stormy weather here, at the end of all things…

Trying to solve it all, I thought “Is God actually, mud? Earth mixed with some water? It is pretty deep, if I REALLY put my mind into it…”. The cold was unbearable, I yearned for warm tea…

A memory of my stay in the “Clil Guesthouse” in northern Israel came into mind, drinking tea on the balcony of a nice rainy day in the Galilee. The tea we drank with our conversation, the rain and the vibe of the place, together with its similarity to certain areas in northern India made me crave some butter tea…

A Buddhist tale popped up in memory, discussing “What is Buddha?”. “Buddha is in everything”, no matter how earthly and filthy, be it mud or even stuff that look like mud. The right term – I shit you not – is “shit stick”. Really, look it up!. “Why then”, I thought, “am I looking so high?…”. Travel memories began to blur in memory, memories themselves began to stir…

Taking it all in, a wet “blup” sound, alongside some thick “bolg” behind me made me turn around. And there she was – a girl, all covered in mud, climbing up of the other side of the viewpoint. As she slowly worked her way up towards me, her pulled-up hood and scarf covering her face, falling in and out of the mud, I knew – It’s going to be Dimples.

It wasn’t. It was an Italian girl named _____. “Hi!…” said she, tiredly happy. “Hi” said so myself. “bloof” made the mud. “Just mud over there as well” she said, “What are you doing here?”. Somehow, she was not surprised, or perhaps was too tired to care when I replied “looking for God. Someone told me you could see him, her… it – here”.

After a while, sitting in the rain, she said “Ha… I know where good is.That;s my hobby. I travel all around the world for it. Food, that’s where God is. Trust me, I know good food, I’m from Sicily… But do travel for food”. “Ha”, I thought. “God is Mud, that’s so 5 minutes ago… God is food!”. My inner monologue was interrupted (again) by the Italian girl, who offered me some tea of her thermos. It just made me… grateful, and warm again… “It’s cold” she said, “I’m going back in… Good luck, Ciao!”

It was getting cold, my feet and hands went numb. At that exact moment, the cloudy blanket cracked, and the sun shone through for a brief… No, it didn’t happen. HOWEVER, what did happen was a bird that bravely flew by at this harsh weather, or was thrown around by the wind. Either way, had my camera still be working, I would have taken a photo. So instead, here’s a photo of a similar dramatic moment which flashed back to me from Ladakh:

The memory of Ladakh hit me:

what if we got it all wrong?

Take for example the biggest backpackers of all times, those who did go from their land, birthplace and their father’s house: Abraham, just like Buddha, Moses, Jesus, Muhamad. Could we implicate from their actions (and not only from their words which were written, translated, filtered, processed and redesigned down through the generations) that the belief systems spawn out of their life-stories describe finding what they were looking for through travel?

For that matter – what about the western culture after the deeds of the likes of Alexander, Odysseus, Mark Twain or Bob Dylan for that matter?

What if – to quote Aerosmith – “life’s a journey, not a destination”? Our life’s struggles, hardships and trails are but the mere unavoidable passages, transactions and bureaucracy of our travel through this world. Is “Travel-As-A-Value” the cure?

Can we use the value of ‘Travel’ to answer questions like “why are we here?”, “what happen to us when we die?”, “what is the meaning of life?”, and perhaps even “what is love?” ? Can’t say I got a 100% clear path to finding answers to these question, nor can I say that I’ve failed. Perhaps I went too far. It was, after all, on an edge of a cliff during a stormy windy weather. But there – just like Dimples –  I found God, in other peoples’ ideas.

Wasn’t sure I did, though. so several year later I did went traveling in Sicily – just to make sure, regarding that whole God thing… That trip – got engaged & married at the airport, but that’s another story…

So what CAN WE tell? At least 4 conclusions:

• Can we tell that “We are all decedents of the travelers“? It is, after all – in our genes &our nature, our culture, religion and ideals. Travel has shaped our evolution, dating back to started back to animals’ migration, seasonal agriculture, exploration, trade, commerce to pilgrimage.

• Can we tell that “Travel is a value on its own“? All included – Travel can be used as a tool for self improvement, on the path to liberation. A Latin term for it would be “allucinor“… Like other across history, looking for the meaning of life actually leads us to go out and find out, to stop working – start traveling!

• Can we tell that “Travel makes us happy”? Ask anyone who travel – my guess is they’l say “For God sake’s, Yes!”.

• Can we tell that “Travel helps to better understand ourselves“? “Know thee self” – has been said to be the most constructive criticism a human can aspire to.

• Can we tell that “Travel gains you a broader perspective“? “Love thy neighbor as yourself” – trying to understand the other’s perspective of the world, it’s people and cultures is the path to acceptance and openness.

• Can we tell that “Travel make memories that last longer than any object“? Our greatest yet false value nowadays in modern society is Capital accumulation aka money, rather than spending our money, energy and liveliness on enjoying what we have. Whether we wish it or not, we live nowadays in photos, recordings, videos and text in everyone’s consciousness – we simply can’t die… That’s the thing with consciousness – it’s a collective thing.

• Can we tell that “saying ‘Travel’ is the best advice we can give a friend“? “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts”, a travelers once said.” – Mark Twain.

Can we tell all that? I know that was more than 4 conclusions, but I DID say “at least”… so:
YES WE CAN!

So, If you’re looking for some great wisdom joined with simpleness:
TRAVEL, even on a budget.

---

Ori Gonen (could have used a pen-name… something like “Ori.G.Nal”, but that’s too much of a gangster’s or rapper’s name for me…).

A Travelers, with a tendency for backpacking, stories and diabetes. Nowadays manager of the ILH – Israel Hostels‘ association.