The Forgotten Soldier

I'm writing a serious blog today, no drunken debauchery, embarrassing stories etc. So if your not keen on that, feel free to leave now and come back next time. I am writing about Israel/Palestine though, so those interested in that, stick around. I'd like to inform UK readers that are interested in Israel, Palestine etc. that there is a TV show on Channel 4 called 'The Promise'. Starting 6th of Februray, it's a 4-parter and will be on each Sunday. It's about an English girl who goes to Israel with her friend who's about to join the IDF. This girl finds her Grandad's diary and it turns out he was a British Paratrooper serving in Palestine after World War 2. Then the whole story keeps flipping back and forth from 2011 to 1947-48 showing her Grandad and what he went through back then.

I personally have been waiting a very long time for something like this as my Grandad was a Paratrooper in Palestine, after World War 2, and he told me his experiences in Palestine were worse than his experiences in Europe. I'm about to tell you his story (the few bits he's willing to talk about). It gives us a chance to look at the whole situation from a different light, from someone who is neither Arab nor Jew. But was just as involved as any of them in the whole conflict back in '46-48.

Let me give you a quick history lesson. Palestine was under British Empire rule, this happened during World War 1 when Britain and their Commonwealth chums defeated the Ottoman Empire (also with Arab help) in this area. In 1917, the British Government made the Balfour Declaration which, in a nutshell, promised the Jews to a new homeland in Palestine. The British Mandate, however, imposed an immigration cap on how many Jews could move to this new homeland. According to my Grandad, this was so the Arabs didn't feel the British Government were handing away their whole country to the Jews. Thus trying to keep some relative peace in the area.

After World War 2, the Jews were fed up with the persecution they were receiving. Many decided to head over to their new homeland of Israel. This is where my Grandad comes in. He had already fought against the Nazis in Europe, but unlike many soldiers in the war, he was no conscript, he was a career soldier. So after the war finished, he continued his service in the British Army. He was in the 6th Airborne, Parachute Regiment. For those of you who have watched Band of Brothers, he was the British equivalent to the men in that film. Now after WW2, the British decided to send more soldiers to Palestine to try and control the level of mass Jewish immigration to the area.

Many of the British soldiers who were stationed there actually had sympathy for the Jewish cause, as many of them had witnessed the atrocities of concentration camps. But the majority of them would go on to leave Palestine with nothing but burning hatred for Israelis. Such is war. The main antagonists of this war was two Jewish groups, one was the Lehi (AKA as the Stern Gang)  the other was called the Irgun. Now these chaps weren't too happy about the British cap on Jewish immigration. So they decided to fight against the British Army. Sounds heroic enough I suppose. But to me, and especially my Grandad, the way they went about doing it just wasn't cricket.

A lot of modern day terrorist tactics were first used during this conflict. The Irgun loved nothing more than planting bombs to blow up British soldiers. But like any terrorist tactic, it's not just soldiers who get killed. One of the most infamous of these was the King David Hotel, the Irgun blew this up and killed 91 people. Including 15 Jews working at the hotel. The concept of planting a bomb and not caring who it hit, whether it be the enemy or your own people, was completely alien to the British soldiers and to them, it was a dirty game. The Israeli militants also invented what is now known as a 'Come on bomb'. Which is when they plant a bomb that kills and injures people. Then when the rescue team come in, there is a bigger bomb waiting for them. This tactic has been used in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. So Al Qaeda have the Jewish militants to thank for some of their tactics. How ironic.

My Grandad told me of a story of a friend who did volunteer work at an Arab children's hospital. One day when he was walking back to camp, unarmed as he was off duty, he was stabbed to death by a passing stranger. It was moves like this that completely changed the British soldiers views towards Israel. I think if anyone was in that situation, and your friend was killed in this manner, you would feel the same. They almost got my Grandad too, he was riding on his Triumph motorcycle, when he luckily noticed some string across the street that was meant to take him off his bike. He shot at them and they ran away, he said "I got one of the bastards" because there was blood on the wall. That's the only time I've heard him swear.

He was not keen on me going to Israel. Which is fair enough, I suppose it's not a nice thought to him that I've been friendly with the same people that hung his friend from a tree and booby trapped the body with bombs. But of course, I was born in the latter half of the 20th century and have a more open mind, so I know that absolutely none of the Israelis I know; have anything to do with what happened to him and the rest of the British soldiers. I hold no grudge against Israel for what happened to him. But I can completely understand why he and the rest of the men who served there do.

In 1948, the British soldiers were ordered to leave by the British Government. This was mainly due to America telling the British, get out or we won't give you any more help to rebuild your country. This was the stage where Britain was no longer the global power, and America squeezed the little remaining life out of the British Empire so they could then be the global power. Fair enough, it's a dog eat dog world after all. But for the British soldiers in Palestine, this was heart breaking. The only thing worse than having your friend butchered like a dog, is knowing they were butchered for nothing. Britain swept this whole episode under the carpet and pretended it never happened. Nobody gave a flying f*ck what had just happened to them. But for the men who served out there, it's something that will haunt their memory until their dying day. So I'm happy to see somebody finally bringing this story to the public eye.

Because it was those soldiers who had to suffer for a problem the Government created. Some things never change...

ישראל (Israel)- Pt VII: Bruce and Australia Day

On January 26th 1787, some chap named Arthur Phillips landed on a beach in a distant far away land. He was accompanied by Royal Marines and a bunch of convicts. The place they arrived at was called Botany Bay, you may know this place as Sydney, Australia. These were the first white men to settle on the island. Thus, every January 26th, our colonial cousins down under celebrate 'Australia Day'.

This day last year, I had the pleasure of celebrating Australia Day...in Israel. Bizarre I know. But I suppose it's no different to a bunch of English clowns celebrating St Patrick's Day (wankers). How did I end up celebrating the creation of the worlds biggest prison whilst living in the Holy Land? Well, we had three Aussies on the Kibbutz. And them being Aussies, basically needed a good reason to blag a day off work so they could get twatted all day long. So what better way to do this than to play up to the Israeli bosses heart by giving the whole "Oh, we really want to celebrate our country's heritage, just like you Israeli's do. You know how special this is to us. It's like an Australian Hannukah". Just like that, they all had the day of work and were allowed to organise a party. Bastards.

We all chipped in some shekels and bought a shit load of booze from Jish. I believe the Aussie's and a couple of others started drinking at about 11am. I, on the other hand, was packing apples like a dick. I was not best pleased. But I did manage to sneak out of the factory and run down to volunteers for a bit. I gave the bosses some bullshit excuse that I need to leave for half an hour, I honestly can't remember what the excuse was now, but it worked! So I quickly ran down to volunteers and cracked open a few tinnies. It was about 12-1pm and one of the French girls was absolutely wasted. She was hilarious, she usually had that French elegance about her. But right now she acting no different to a Geordie lass hitting the town on a Friday night... although I don't recall her glassing anybody for calling her a fat slag.

The Aussies were drinking beer and just generally being Aussies. One of them was a girl, who I shall call Sheila. Sheila is one of the funniest girls I know. Funny girls are hard to come by, no offence ladies. Sheila had a mouth like a cesspit (metaphorically of course). She could swear for England...actually that saying doesn't make sense here because she's an Aussie...so...she could swear for Australia. She would have me in stitches with her outrageous anecdotes about useless men in bed. I usually hate all this in girls, but somehow she manages to carry it off. I think the accent has something to do with it, it just suits Australian girls to be lary. Their great at banter.

The other two Aussies, Bruce 1 and Bruce 2, were probably some of the best mates I made there. I think that's because culturally I could relate to the Aussies the most, as our culture and history are very closely intertwined. For example, when we misbehaved as children, our parents would give us a slap. When the Europeans heard this, they went absolutely ape shit. "Oh my God your parents hit you!!! How could they do that?!!??!". Their reaction was as if we had been sexually molested, where as to us, it's merely just a slap and that's that. I suppose their not tough like us. Funny foreigners.

Anyway, back to the story. I went back to work feeling quite merry, but I had made a huge mistake. Because now I had got the taste for it, and I just wanted to get hammered. This made me clock watch, which then made time go ve...ry....sl...ve...ry...sl...ve...ry...sl...o...ve...sl...ry...very slow! But alas, the clock struck 4pm and I was out of the factory quicker than an ejaculating penis pulls out during unprotected sex. Now the fun was about to begin. Australia Day was probably one of the top 3 nights in the Kibbutz, I have really been looking forward to writing about it. But you know what? I can't remember much from it now! It's been a whole year since it happened. But fear not, I still remember the story that everyone who was there was talking about the next day. Which story is this exactly? Well it's no fairy tale, I can tell you that much.

I mentioned earlier, Bruce 1 and Bruce 2. Which title shall I give the man in this story? Well, after this stunt, I don't think he deserves the number 1 spot. So he shall be called Bruce 2. Now Bruce 2 had already done some pretty wild and disgusting things. He was already well renowned for vomiting at comical moments and going off on not so borderline racist rants once he had a few beers inside. On Australia Day, Bruce 2 bit off more than he could chew. Bruce 2 started drinking at about 11am, I recall coming home from work at 4pm and he was whining about drinking that whole time and not being drunk. He had a point, he wasn't pointing his finger 1 centimetre away from my face when making a point, so he must of been sober.

I was doing a bit of skirt chasing that night on some of the new volunteers, so I missed the exact point where 12 hours of drinking hit Bruce 2 like a 200mph cricket ball. He was in a bad way. I thought the worst had happened when he stripped down to his boxers (Aussie flag design) on the dance floor and was busting some pretty atrocious moves. I thought we could just laugh about that tomorrow and move on, but this was merely a warm-up.

After some HARD partying at the pub (wish I could remember it), we were all back at volunteers. I can't remember where I was going or why. But I heard some voices in my head, I started to freak out big time. I know this alcohol is potent, but voices?! Fuck, what if they tell me to burn things? Has someone spiked my drink?! Who the fuck has spiked my drink?! "Help...HELP!". Wait a minute, I know that voice. I turned to my right and saw an arm and a leg sticking out of a bush. I thought maybe Jack the Ripper had paid Baram a visit. But then I realised, on closer inspection, that the arm and leg were attached to a body; Bruce 2's body.

Me:"Bruce?! (I will just call him Bruce now) How the fuck did you end up down there?!"
Bruce: "Goymer?! GOYMER! Goymer help me please! I'm stuck!"

I don't know what the hell had happened to me, but I actually felt quite sorry for the lad. So I helped my fallen comrade up and helped walk him to our room (he was my room mate). I laid him down, and then thought that would be the end of it. I was hoping it was, because I had a lady friend present and he really was killing the mood. But you know pissheads; they just don't know when the game is over. He started to get out of bed.

Me: "What are you doing?!"
Bruce: "I need the toilet" *falls on floor out of bed*
Me: For fucks sake Bruce, stay in bed!
Bruce: No! I need the toilet!
Me: Alright, let me walk you there

I've seriously never seen someone this bad. If I let go of him, he went falling arse over tit. So I was his human walking stick. I led him to the toilet and told him to give me a shout if he needs a hand walking back (I was getting pretty fed up by this point). So I went back to my room and was chilling with my rather fit lady friend, but nothing could happen between us yet, because Bruce was due to stumble back in at any moment. About twenty minutes passed and still no sign of Bruce. I went to the toilet and the door was open, but no Bruce. Uh-oh. Where the fuck is Bruce?!

I went back to my lady friend and informed her Bruce is MIA. I ran around the volunteers looking for the bastard. Drunken paranoia had me thinking he may be in the forest right now getting gang-raped by a pack of Jackals. Shit. Where are you Bruce?! What if you're in trouble? What if...hang about...there's a fit Swedish bird alone in my room and I'm out here looking for some drunken spastic. Fuck Bruce. The search ended and I proceeded to enjoy the rest of my night.

So what happened to Bruce? He came stumbling into my room the next morning, covered in cuts and bruises. I was too hungover to give a shit and went back to sleep. When I eventually came to, I went out to the common room and Bruce was the centre piece of everyone's conversation. Here's what happened after I lost Bruce:

Bruce had always been drunkenly hitting on a South African girl, who we shall call S. S had always returned the flirtation. But this night, she went to bed before Bruce did. Bruce was not pleased with this. So Bruce walked to her room, which was up a flight of stairs. Drunken legs and staircases are not a good mix. Bruce fell down several times. But Bruce will not fail. Bruce kept on going and eventually conquered the mountainous staircase. By this stage Bruce was covered in blood and looked like he had just survived a car bomb. Bruce knocked on S' door.

*knock knock knock*
Bruce: OPEN THE DOOR!!
S: Who the fuck is that?!
B: It's me, Bruce! OPEN THE DOOR!!!

S opens the door for Bruce. His face is disfigured like Freddy Kruger and he now has the charisma skills of a down syndrome chimpanzee.

Bruce: S, will you have sex with me?!
S: WHAT?! NO!
*cue the infamous line that was always repeated to him*:
B: WHY WON'T YOU HAVE SEX WITH ME?! Is it because I don't have a gun?!

S had a fling with an Israeli soldier. So Bruce's logic by this point was if he could somehow get his hands on a rifle, he would be right in there. But S kindly refused this generous offer and Bruce admitted defeat. He ended up sleeping on her spare bed. Once I heard this story, I calmly made my way back to mine and Bruce's room and proceeded to do what every true man should do to a true friend in this situation, laugh in their face. I think I broke a rib from laughing so hard. He honestly couldn't leave the room, he was that embarrassed. Yet he couldn't remember a single thing.

So me and another mate, from Florida, decided to take advantage of Bruce's fragile state. We told Bruce that he had tried to take a dump on the floor in front of all the hot girls. But we stopped him. He ate it up like an African does Red Cross rations. Now he was considering leaving Baram for another Kibbutz. We let him believe it for a good half hour, then took a tiny bit of pity and let him know we was joking. I truly believe Bruce will never live this down. I suppose me dedicating a whole blog story to this night doesn't help him forget.

Have a good Australia day Bruce ;)

England- The Green and Pleasant Land

In just over a months time, I will be setting off on my travels again. I arrived back in England at the end of April 2010. I made a promise to myself that I would be gone again in under a year. Unless I fall off a cliff or get kidnapped by Al Qaeda between now and Feburary 14th, I will have fulfilled my self-given promise. I am excited, just as excited as I was when I left for Israel. But there is a difference this time.

When I left last time, I couldn't wait to leave England. I hated this place and seriously wanted nothing to do with it. But since coming home, I realised it's wasn't England I hated, it was my lifestyle. I was tired of staying in the same old town, working at the same old place, meeting the same old faces, same old everything. Some people like the security of this sameness, that's fair enough. It's not my cup of tea though.

So this time round, I'm actually really going to miss England and am a bit sad to be leaving her. But they way I look at it is, there's a big chance I will end up marrying England. But right now I have to go out there and play the field a bit before I make such a commitment! What is it I love about her? There's too much to list if I'm honest with you. Perhaps everything I miss will not be so unique to England, but at present I am none the wiser. I have learnt that England (and Britain as a whole) culturally shares quite a few things with nations such as Australia and New Zealand which now appears quite obvious why.

There are many people from outside the UK who read this blog. So let me clear something up before I continue. 'United Kingdom' and 'England' are two different things. The United Kingdom is the name for England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland all together. I am speaking about ENGLAND, because I am ENGLISH and live in ENGLAND. I can not speak on behalf of the other British nations. It is a complicated issue, which is debated constantly and I would only confuse you if I said any more on the matter. So let me continue with why I love ENGLAND. I am going to list what I love and also give a tourist board approach to my foreign readers who don't know much about England other than what they see on TV. This is a travel blog, read by people from all over the world. England is part of this world, so I see fit to inform you about some of it.

Food- If you come to England, you should try out traditional English food. I shan't go into detail about each one. But you can google image them, trust me, our food is amazing. Full English breakfast, Fish and Chips, Sunday roast dinner (my favourite), Sheperd's Pie, Marmite, Cornish Pasty's, Pork pies, Sausage rolls, Steak and ale pie, Lancashire hot pot and many more. We also have some of the best biscuits and cakes in the world to accompany our cup of tea ;)

Tabloid Newspapers- For those of you with an IQ of anything over 10, you will hate these. But if you have a minor case of retardation, like me, you will love them. Their 'newspapers' which basically tell you rubbish news that really isn't important. Like a man who got his penis caught in a car exhaust pipe, or something along those lines. Our biggest selling newspaper is 'The Sun'. This paper has a 'Page 3 Model' which is a rather attractive lady showing us all her breasts. To me this is normal, but foreigners are either amazed or disgusted when they see this. Usually the primary is a male and the latter a female!

Music- I don't even think I need to go into how much music we have exported to the world. But for those of you who are interested in listening to more English music, I will list some of my favourites: Oasis, The Clash, Madness, The Beatles, Prodigy, Kaiser Chiefs, Iron Maiden, Kano, Dizzee Rascal, Muse, Queen, Duran Duran, Depeche Mode, Artic Monkeys and a lot more. England is also the proud inventor of jungle, 'drum and bass' and dubstep. Not for the light hearted.  After America, England definitely contributes the most music worldwide.

Comedies- I can't stress enough how much you should all watch English comedies. Every foreign friend I have introduced to English comedies has not been let down. They have a completely different approach to American comedies. I am a big fan of American comedies, but ours are a different style. In America, the main focus is to laugh at what is being said. In England, our main focus is to laugh AT the character. I mean in a way that someone is doing something really embarrassing and you just laugh at them thinking "Oh my God, what a dickhead". It is sometimes so embarrassing that it is hard to watch. We call this "cringing". I can't do them any justice by trying to describe them. If you have torrents, then download one of the following: The Office (UK version, the original), Alan Partridge, The Peep Show or the hottest comedy right now: Inbetweeners.

Inbetweeners has been such a hit that it is broadcast worldwide, keep your eyes out for it because it might not be on your 'main' channels. I know it is definitely in Australia, Canada, Sweden, Israel. It's about four teenage lads at school and will bring back a lot of memories from school. Everybody will be able to relate at least one character to somebody they know/knew in real life. There is Simon, the geek, Jay, who lies 24/7, Neil, who's so stupid it's hilarious and Simon who is having trouble with the ladies. America want to make their own version of it (typical). You can actually find the episodes on Youtube. Here's a trailer for it:

Rich history- England's got a really interesting history. The whole United Kingdom has interesting history. So if you're into sightseeing, England will not disappoint. Most people just think Big Ben, Buckingham Palace and Stone Henge are all we have to offer. These places are nothing compared to many other historic places in England. If you're a history geek like me, then look up the history of the British Isles, you will be entertained for hours. We have battles and interesting characters coming out of our ears. From the Roman Empire, to the Battle of the Roses, from the English Civil War to how we forced the rest of the island to make the 'United Kingdom'. 

Drinking- This isn't a uniquely English thing. But it is part of the English culture never the less to get 'plastered', 'legless', 'hammered', 'wankered', 'messy' and 'drunk' (that is an English word after all ;) ). Drinking is a massive part of English culture and always has been. Back in the Battle of Hastings, the French Normans prayed to God the night before their battle. The Anglo-Saxons decided to get drunk instead. Probably why they lost! Drinking out of a pint glass is the best way and I think the whole world should adopt it!

Beautiful scenery- A lot of people make the mistake of only visiting London when they come to England. London is a great city to visit. But there is so much more to England. If you want nice scenery, I highly recommend going to the North of England where you have the Yorkshire Moors, Peak District and the Lake District. The South-West of England is popular in the summertime for holidaymakers. The west coast of England is truly stunning and is where I currently live right now. Here are some pictures I took:

English Radio- We have a radio station for young people called BBC Radio 1. The music is your general mainstream pop music. But that's not why most people listen to it. The reason we listen to it is because it's hilarious. The DJ's spend most their time talking instead of playing music. Their usually cracking jokes, prank calling people etc. I didn't know this was unique (in Europe anyway) until my foreign friends said they were loving the English radio because it's so funny where as their's is just boring people playing song after song.

Sense of humour- The English love to 'take the piss'. This doesn't mean stealing urine from somebody. 'Taking the piss' or 'taking the Micky' is when you make a joke about somebody. I know many nations like to do this, but in all honesty, I think the English are the best at this. An Englishman will have a comeback ready before you have even finished your sentence. I love it. It's not everybodys cup of tea as they see it as harsh and bullying. But you shouldn't take it to heart, if someone 'takes the piss out of you' then you just have to give it back as good as you get. I know this is not just an English thing, as I have many foreign mates I can have some decent banter with. But only a handful of them were willing to go as dark and brutal as an Englishman does in his sense of humour. Remember, don't take it personally. We also love to play on words and be a bunch of sarcastic bastards. The Inbetweeners clip above presents all this quite well. 

Sport- Football is England's most popular sport. Yes Football, not 'Soccer'. Anyone who wants to call it 'soccer' needs to be hung, drawn and quartered. Football is the most popular sport in England. I'm sure all football fans reading this won't need to be told about the Premier League as it is the most popular league in the world (along with La Liga). I seriously could not imagine my life without football, I know it would be very dull for one thing! England is the proud inventor of the most popular sport in the world. England is also responsible for rugby, cricket, darts, lawn tennis, badminton to name a few. England invented modern day hockey which then bred ice hockey. American 'Football' derives from rugby. Baseball was introduced to America by English immigrants. Wikipedia all this if you think I am wrong. So basically, every sport you know and love, you have England to thank.

That will do for now. I will comment more on England in future blogs. It is an amazing country, which is yet to let down anyone I know who has visited. We may be lacking in hot weather, but our abundance in culture, history and landmarks more than makes up for that.

ישראל (Israel)- Pt VI: Hiking, screaming jackals and Hezbollah

Nothing arouses me more than a nice, big...HIKE! Hiking is the dog's bollocks (very good to non-UK readers). Not many young people are into it these days, well I am. Without trying to sound too cheesy; the world is a beautiful place. Every country has it's own form of beauty. For me, there is no better way to experience this beauty than sticking on a pair of walking shoes and getting up close and personal to these places.

So I was very lucky to be put in the Kibbutz I was. Bar'am is situated in the deep north of Israel. It's about a one mile walk from the Lebanese border (more on that later). This region of the country is surrounded by an ocean of mountains, which is an alien sight to an Englishman. So I was pretty much creaming myself at having these mountains right on my doorstep. When the Jews started settling in Palestine/Israel, they had a massive hard on for planting trees. I suppose in the same manner you might redecorate a new house you'v just bought. Or perhaps it's to make their borders harder to penetrate from invading forces. But, whatever the reason, it really has transformed the landscape. Looking over at the treeless hills of Lebanon, you can see what it was like before the Jews came. I think the Israeli's can give themselves a pat on the back for that one.

I saw a lot of wildlife on these walks. I saw, snakes, lizards, deer, tortoises and jackals, to name a few. Just seeing a tortoise strolling in the wild was such a spin out at first. I must of really shown how foreign I was by getting all excited by an animal these people must see everyday. I remember being on a bus to Jerusalem, we drove past a camel and I went mental.

"OH MY GOD! DID YOU SEE THAT?! IT WAS A CAMEL! HAHA!"
I was sitting next to an Israeli friend, who just looked at me like I was severely retarded.

Jackals were also completely foreign to a lot of people. I only ever saw one on it's own. But you could be sure that at every sunset, these little bastards would start howling to the moon. God knows how many of them it was. I got used to it, but I remember when I first heard these things I thought it was a pack of Scousers crying for my possessions! One Viking type Swede wanted to go into the forest one night and hunt one with his bare hands. I drunkenly agreed to help him on this pointless quest. It never materialised though because I was always to drunk to go and help him. One time he gave a classic Johnny Foreigner moment when he got a bag of meat to use as bait. He struts over to me and booms: "I have the meat...now I need a man". I started pissing myself with laughter, he failed so see what was so amusing though! Here's a picture I got of one and some of the area:

Not that long ago though, this region was right in the thick of it. To the north of Israel is Lebanon. The south of Lebanon is mostly ruled by a militant Muslim group called Hezbollah. The Lebanese government isn't strong enough to do anything about it. These boys aren't to be taken lightly. I have a feeling the fact that Iran is constantly pumping Hezbollah with cash and weapons may have something to do with this. In layman terms, their not too keen on Israel and vice-versa. One morning on the 12th July 2006, Hezbollah planted IEDs on the Israeli side of the border and blew up two armoured Humvees. This killed three IDF soldiers, injured two and two more were captured.

It was when I learnt this story that my view on the whole Palestine/Israel thing started to change a bit. In the UK, our news always makes out that it's these poor defenceless Arabs who get blown to kingdom come by the big bullies of Israel. Well clearly this time, Israel had done nothing wrong and Hezbollah wanted to play Bertie big bollocks by capturing two Israeli soldiers. After this happened, Israel's chief of staff Dan Halutz said, "if the soldiers are not returned, we will turn Lebanon's clock back 20 years" and this they did. They sent Lebanon back to the f*cking stone age. I remember seeing this on the news and thinking "Wow, those Israeli's are arseholes. Only 50 Israeli's dead and over 1000 Lebanese dead. That's not fair". Which I suppose is rich coming from a man who's armed forces have inflicted more casualties on Afghans than any Afghan has on Brits.

Does that make the British Army bad people? No. It's just part of war. Part of the fact that NATO has the technology to do such big damage and the Taliban doesn't. So does that mean NATO should downgrade their weapons to make it 'fair'? No. Just like it's not Israel's fault their military is far superior to any of the surrounding nations. Israel's approach to war is pretty much "Don't start nothing and there won't be nothing". I always thought Israel was the aggressor, but after reading up on it, they merely smash down those who attack them in the first place.

I don't want people to think I'm completely 'pro-Israel'. I think to pick a side like this as if it's a football game is ridiculous. Both sides have a very valid point and this is the problem. The Israel/Palestine problem has many similarities to Northern Ireland. I actually feel for the Palestinians, there's no doubt that their getting a rough deal. Just like I have no doubt the Catholics in N.I. were getting a rough deal. But as long as you PURPOSELY blow up innocent people to try and get your message across, no-one's going to listen and you deserve every bit of brutal retaliation you get! Israel's not helping matters with the whole West Bank settlement thing. I know a few secular Israeli's who oppose this. Israeli's are normal people who want to live a normal life. You think they love living the life of being surrounded by constant potential wars?

It's a situation I don't envy at all and I'm so happy to live in a country that doesn't have this problem on it's plate. The Israelis were always telling me that the war with Hezbollah will kick off again soon. Whether this is true or their understandable state of paranoia, I don't know. But I imagine it won't be pretty. I didn't see one bit of war during my time in Israel. My closest to any action I got was when I was hiking in the mountains one day. I heard a bang in the distance and then another louder one which shook the ground. Needless to say I started walking double time. Because the Kibbutz had a security fence around it, and I just pictured them closing the gate and refusing to let me in whilst a bunch of Hezbollah heavys closed down on me!

That's the difference between a terrorist attack in the UK and one out there. In the UK, if it happens, it will be in a crowded public place. In Israel, you could be sitting at home in your underwear watching Top Gear, when all of a sudden a missile comes falling on you. It must be at the back of every Israelis mind, because I know it was mine. About once every few weeks or so, the thought would pop up in your head. I could appreciate even more how safe my country is when I sat down on a park bench and thought "I've got more chance of death by tripping over a dog turd than a missile falling on me".

Hezbollah were really close to the Kibbutz. Here's a map (with genuine IDF war tactics on them!) and some pictures I took at the border:

Genuine military map from the 2006 war :p

Lebanon

I think these bullets are from the 2006 war. Some unlucky bastard must of got hit because there were still Morphine needles on the ground!

Right, I think we'll wrap it up there folks. I went a bit more political today, because to go to Israel and not get political is like going shopping with the girlfriend and not getting pissed off!

ישראל (Israel)- Pt V: My most drunken night ever

I have two major regrets about my time in Israel. My first regret, was not taking enough pictures. When I got home and looked at my pictures of Israel; I was so pissed at myself. I saw so many beautiful and interesting places. Yet I was too effing lazy to get my camera out and click a button. I can promise you now that I will NOT be making this mistake when I re-start my adventures next month.

My second regret was getting so drunk and getting massive blank spots in my memory from the night before. That's not fun for me. One of the best things about getting drunk is the day after. When you and your friends are reminiscing about the night before. Laughing at he who pulled a leprosy-infested pig the night before. And applauding he who blagged a threesome with Megan Fox and mid 1990's Jennifer Aniston (not that she's ugly now by any means!). I missed out on a lot of these tales. That's no thanks to 'Alaska Vodka'. Ah Alaska vodka. It cost 4 quid (£4 to non-UK readers) for a litre and tasted like AID's (if AID's has a taste?)

One of the first thing people told me about the Kibbutz was: "You will be drinking straight vodka". I completely laughed this off and politely retorted "No f*cking chance!". Someone should of given me a knife and fork when I said that, because I was soon going to eat my words. I can't remember when and where exactly. But I do recall that I was happily drinking my beer and generally have a chilled night. This was soon to change when someone pulled out a bottle of Alaska Vodka. Why it's called that God only knows. I bet it's from Alaska just as much as Queen Elizabeth is from Kazakhstan. Anyway, they started pouring out straight shots of vodka for everybody. There was NO WAY I was going to go anyway near the stuff. But of course, my ego got challenged and I had to drink it. It can't of been that bad, because soon I completely fucked my beers off and was pouring my self out straight voddys one after another. What a machine.

Me and my viking friend would start drinking about 5.30pm. By dinnertime at 6.30-7.00, I was well on my way. We'd nail some grub. Head back to volunteers and continue the pre-pub drinking. By the time the pub opened, I was already a dribbling mess who took 30 minutes to complete one sentence. Most of what happened after that is a blur. Like New Year's Eve for example. All I can remember from NYE was tearing into a random mountain of sushi. That's it. That was my night as far as my brain can tell me! Mind you, it was bloody good sushi.

By January, me and Alaska knew each other pretty well. Everything was happening so fast. At first I thought it was disgusting and too aggressive. But once I got to know it, I was in love. I could neck this stuff like it was water. Until one cold night in the Israeli mountains...

I mentioned in another blog that I first found out about the Kibbutz because of a lad I went to school with called Ben. Over two months into the trip and we still hadn't met. Both of us were just too busy living the kibbutz life. A life that sucked me in so much I completely forget there's a world beyond those pine coated mountains. So after a natter on Facebook we arrange a meeting. Long story short, there was a cock-up in communication and he turns up unexpected. I was going to have a quite night and had no alcohol. Catastrophe.

After much brainstorming we decide to phone up a shop in the nearby Arab village of Jish. These boys sorted us out big time. We phone, they deliver alcohol. Heaven. We go all out and buy six litres of vodka, no mixer needed by this stage. By this stage I didn't have a pot to piss in. So I had to use the ol' English 'gift of the gab' to get money off people so I could fulfill my alcoholic needs. Eventually the cargo arrived, hallelujah. Let the festivities begin!

For some reason, Ben decided doing a single shot of vodka just wasn't quite man enough. So we had to drink it by the double. What an amazing idea. So amazing I passed out at 10.30pm whilst everyone else carried on partying in my room. I woke up in the morning with a really wet pillow and a feeling on my head like someone had been trying to jab a sharp screwdriver into it over and over. "WHAT THE F*CK!? WHY'S MY PILLOW SO WET?!" I was later to find out, that whilst I had passed out, some of my fellow volunteers thought it would be quite rude of themselves not to f*ck me up in my drunken state. This is what happened to me:

What a mong! I knew right away who was responsible for this. A couple of weeks before this, me and a mate may have poured a huge cooler box of melted ice over a sleeping Aussie. We may also of chased him around the volunteer block with broomsticks, kicking down every door he tried to hide behind, until he eventually had to sneak into someone else's room and sleep there. A few days after this, I recall possibly drawing penis' all over his face the night before he had to go to work, he didn't see the one I put behind his ear and went to work oblivious to it. So perhaps I completely deserved what happened to me and should of called it quits...never.

It was about 8am and I was still completely wasted. I had drunk a litre and a half of straight vodka to myself in a matter of hours, I was in a bad way. The moment I woke up to this monstrosity, I jumped out of bed like a soldier to the call of action. Still in my boxer shorts, I march straight out of my room to hunt down my prey. Luckily I know he's in the room opposite to ours. BAM!!! I storm in there like a madman and head straight for his bed. By the time he knows what's going on I've dragged his bed all the way to the double door and proceed to mercilessly strike him with a broomstick (my favoured choice of weapon by this point). Now all I can hear is that familiar loud whiney Aussie accent:

"F*CK OFF GOYMER!!! WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU DOING YOU PRICK?!!?!"

"WHY'S MY F*CKING PILLOW WET?!?! AY?! NOT SO FUNNY NOW IS IT!!!"

I was still absolutely wankered. I finished it all off by launching a telephone at his head. Then I stumbled back to bed and went to sleep.  Somehow I even managed to scar his leg with the broom. I would be lying if I said I'm not proud of that. That was definitely the drunkest I've ever been. I passed out at 10.30pm. I didn't even know that was scientifically possible. One girl even managed to draw a penis on my forehead whilst I was AWAKE. I had no idea it had happened. From the pictures, it appears they used their brains and cunning to perform this operation by sticking a pretty Swedish girl in front of me. It just so happened she had a lovely pair of...shoes on her. I was admiring her shoes so much that I didn't even notice someone was drawing on my head!

I also found out what the excruciating pain in my head was. Apparently I ran into a door and almost knocked myself out. Pretty much sums up my night. This was the end of the road for me and Alaska. After that night, just the smell of it made me gag. Even just seeing somebody pouring themselves a drink could turn my stomach after this point. It wasn't nice vodka by any means. I think the ingredients must be cats piss, battery acid with an essence of baby turd. It is disgusting. But f*ck me it done the job!

F*ck me, I was hoping to fit a lot more into my blog today. This was supposed to include another topic. But I think that's enough for now. Thanks a lot and up the Gunners!

Johnny Foreigner

It's that time again. That time where I have naff all to do so may as well write another story! I've had a lot of positive feedback for this blog and would like to thank everybody once again. As big headed and arrogant some of you may think I am (with good reason I suppose!) I am truly humbled and well chuffed with the positive comments I've been receiving. Some people, who I was at Bar'am with have moaned that I have missed a lot of funny moments out. Well I'm sorry, but:

A: There's too much for me to remember.
B: Some things that were funny to us (i.e. inside jokes) just won't be that entertaining to people who weren't there.
C: There are just some events that should NOT go beyond the realms of the Kibbutz. So don't worry Mr 'I made a tit out of myself on Australia night' ;)

Right, enough of that. Let's get down to business...

One of the best things I love about travelling; is the people you meet. The Kibbutz was a real melting pot of nationalities. I only ever met three other people from Blighty during my time in Bar'am. The rest included people from Australia, USA, Colombia, Sweden, South Africa, South Korea, France, Denmark, Macedonia, Mexico, Argentina, Holland, Switzerland and a lot more. Meeting people from such different cultures was truly an eye opener. I learnt more about the world in those few months than a lot of people do their whole life.  I've always had an interest in foreign culture, I honestly don't know why. But foreign culture and history have always been my intellectual porn.

So it was much to my delight to meet people from all four corners of the Earth and see and hear about what kind of people they are. I saw many stereotypes completely obliterated (Yanks DO have a sense of humour, not all Colombians are cocaine snorting gangsters etc.). But it is hilarious when somebody does something that fits within their stereotype. Like the Mexicans, for example, if we got a ten second break at work, you could bet your house that they would take this golden opportunity to have a nap! Also, they put tabasco sauce on EVERYTHING, the same way an Englishman uses ketchup or a Dutchman uses mayonaisse (freaks!).

I'm not too sure what everybody thinks of English people. There are two main stereotypes of the English. The first one being a people who wear bowler hats, drink tea, eat Fish and Chips and love the Queen. This is a pretty out-of-date view if I'm perfectly honest. Apart from Fish and Chips & tea, we need them three like a diabetic needs insulin. The second stereotype is that we're a bunch of loud, drunken hooligans who hit on any girl within a 500 metre radius and will pick a fight on any 'Johnny Foreigner' who looks at the Englishman in a funny way. If you have never heard of this latter stereotype, then I suggest you go to Ibiza or any other Mediterranean island in the summertime. Actually I don't suggest that, you will hate England after that!

I'm not sure which image I gave out to the foreigners I met. Because I do say my 'please' and 'thank you's', hold the door open for people etc. like any real Englishman should. But I do recall occasionally getting wasted and going on a massive, mindless vandalism rampage like any real Englishman should!

One major thing about people from the British Isles is, we are island people. There's a lot of people on this island who would laugh in your face if you tried to say the UK is European (me included!). Being surrounded by sea has bred into us this "Us VS Them" mentality. I'm an convinced the Euro is a massive ploy to bring down the Pound Sterling (£) because Europe was jealous of how far ahead of them we all were. I have no idea if this is true, but it fits well with the 'Us against the World' mentality we have on this island. And let me tell you, this state of mind can play havoc with the brain when you're the only Englishman in a room...

I could be sitting in the living room watching TV, minding my own business. Then a few Swedes would walk in the room and start conversing to each other in Swedish. More than likely they were just talking about their favourite IKEA furniture or how everything "is so much better in Sweden". But to me, they were conspiring to kill me. I was John F Kennedy, the foreigners were Lee Harvey Oswald. I would be getting paranoid as fuck that these people were speaking about me. Probably laughing at how I can only speak one language. I know I wasn't alone in this paranoia because some of the Australians also felt the same (also English speaking island people). Bloody Johnny Foreigners!

In fairness to the Swedes, these lot have English on lockdown. Some of them, you honestly would not know that English is their second language. If anything, you would think their American because they all talk like Yanks when they speak English (why they want to do that God only knows!). Some of them are very modest about how good their English is and will kindly assure you that their English is not that good. Some will try and CORRECT you on your English and argue that you're wrong! I've got a love-hate thing with the Swedes. I think I either love them or hate them. They can be odd people, but on the other hand they can be some of the best people you will ever have the pleasure of meeting.

This brings me to my next point. Being around foreigners made me very conscious about the way I talk. I never realised how fast I speak and how I don't correctly pronounce words like they 'should be'. This was a nightmare when I first went abroad. Because when you speak to people in your normal English, most foreigners don't understand. But they are too scared to ask you to slow down and speak properly because they put it down to their poor English skills instead of the fact you're not speaking 'properly'. I only found this out when an Israeli girl I worked with would constantly tell me to slow down because she didn't have the foggiest what I just said.

This soon lead to my accent getting fucked about royally. There was one French girl who only understood me if I spoke English in a French accent. No word of a lie. At one point my Dad said I sounded like Forrest Gump! Because, when speaking to those who speak poor English; you have to downgrade the way you speak. Thus conversing in, what in England we know as, 'Pidgin English'. This really fucks with your head. Because I spoke it so much, your mind gets used to it and you automatically start speaking retarded to people sometimes. Even if it's a fellow native-English speaker! I even started to find I had to REALLY concentrate when listening to English actors/actresses on TV because my brain became so used to listening to foreigners speaking English rather than my own people!

Being in this environment really did make me want to learn another language. So when I came back to England I started to learn German. But to be honest, native English speakers are terrible for learning new languages. Foreigners HAVE to learn English if they want to be successful in life. They know this, so they try their best to perfect the English language. I actually feel guilty sometimes watching how hard some people try to learn English and struggle. Yet here's me who dropped out of my French classes with the good ol' English attitude of "Why the fuck do I have to learn French?! I'm never going to France!!!".

Maybe if the French Empire beat the British Empire back in the 18th century then I would now be typing this blog in fluent Froggy tongue. But they didn't. The British Empire won and thus the English language is the heavyweight champion of the world. GET IN THERE MY SON!

I know I didn't really write any stories today. I'm ill; and digging that deep into my battered brain could possibly kill me. Happy New Year everybody.