I am effectively homeless.
As such, I’ve been developing a healthy appreciation for facial hair, cheap booze, and crack.
Not really (I still hate facial hair), but this Birthright trip is the ideal segue into the nomad life. We’re mostly off the grid, we’re not staying anywhere longer than a night, and last Monday, we slept beneath the stars in the Negev Desert.
Well, I slept beneath the stars. Most of us slept in a bedouin tent, or some approximation thereof. I’m no expert, but I think most bedouin tents contains things like the furnishings of bedouins, the possessions of bedouins, and bedouins. And I imagine that most bedouin communities don’t host three-hour DJ sets for horny young Americans, but I’m trying not to be picky.
When you’re homeless, not being picky comes in handy, and I’m trying to master the skills of homelessness: thrift, non-attachment to material things, and substance abuse. Well, minus the substance abuse. What I’m trying to say is that sleeping outside is good practice, even if twenty feet away someone is playing Major Lazer. Homeless people have to be resilient.
OMGGGGGGG Zach I miss you & also wish I was traveling with you.