Most people take a walk and may think about Aristotle, yesterday’s news, or even the Phillies statistics. My mind is weird. I think in pictures. I see things and they become images in my mind and I think about taking a snap shot.  It is a particularly hot day and I am strolling along the boardwalk by the beach in Tel Aviv. The beach is swamped with people. I would love to walk along the water but I fear becoming a target for matkot -racquet ball- players hitting the ball at 90mph and kids throwing sand at me because I was entering their sacred sandcastles. Sun tanning on a crowded beach when the sun is so freaking hot seems a gloomy thought to me. But here people enjoy the day.

My time is right after sunrise when I am out with a few brave joggers and then I take a dip in the sea with the surfers. Being on the beach at noon is for the seagulls. So I keep on walking with my Phillies hat to protect my face from the sun, a bottle of water and my trusty camera.

I look down on the beach at the volleyball players. A smash and then block - Perfect shots for my Cannon 50 D. I watch them longer and I realize that they are deaf and the language they are using is sign language. I focus my attention nearby on 100 Israeli folk dancers doing the Horah. A man with a shaved head jumps up with his arms held straight out. He is in his mid-twenties wearing an orange t-shirt saying “Rolling Stones” - a great snap shot. I look out at the meditative sea at a lone sail boat - I take my time to adjust the lighting and another snap shot. I keep walking in the hot sun and check in my wallet for money to buy a drink. A 20 shekel bill drops from my wallet and my eyes focus on a beautiful Israeli soldier picking up the bill for me. This time no snap shot. I just smile and say thank you. With her long dark hair and trim figure she certainly does not fit the bill of a tough Israeli soldier. After walking along the crowded three mile coastline of Tel Aviv I make it to the end of the beach sweaty, water bottle empty and my right index finger warmed up from doing seventy finger pushdowns. I arrive at the Dolphinarium with several abandoned shops and a dive shop. There was a disco here but now a monument stands of a teenage boy and girl standing next to each other. Above their faces is printed in Hebrew, “We will never stop dancing.” On the bottom of the monument is written, “Remember them”. Twenty feet away stands a grey stone monument with twenty one names engraved in both Hebrew and Russian. Their lives were ended abrubrtly by a suicide bomber in the underage discotheque. I stare at the Red Roses and remember eight years ago where I was when I heard the news. One split second. This is Israel. People enjoying the beach on hot day but one split second and everything can change. There is nothing to do so I keep walking. I reach my favorite part of the walk where the waves crash against the rocks and start humming Eli-Eli by Hanah Senesh. The words go something like I pray that these things will never end – the land and the sea , the crash of the heavens and the prayer of the heart. In ten minutes I arrive in the ancient sea port of Jaffa. The legend of Jonah and the whale takes place here. My favorite viewing spot is looking out at the five stones that jet out in the sea. Each time I get here I look out to see them and they remind me of an old friend coming home and sitting at the head of the dinner table. I take many more snap shots.

There are at least 300 boats in the port. Most of them are old rickety sailing crafts that I am surprised still stay afloat. The fishermen come here in the early morning with their catch. I like to wander around here and there are multiple piers that I can walk out on. I was walking out to a dingy old blue boat and I suddenly looked up and saw a wrinkled man fishing on an old wooden chair in a rusted green boat. “Perfect picture,” I thought to myself and sat down on a white bucket next to the boat. I looked out into the sea ignoring him. It was just me the sea and the fisherman. The numbers 72231 were painted in white on the boat and the name of the boat was the Merav printed in English and the Hebrew letters: mem, yud, resh, vav. The old man looked puzzled. I don’t think he knew what to make of me and we just sat there. Now for me not taking a picture in such an opportune moment is like walking by the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream shop and not thinking about chocolate peanut butter cup ice cream. I lazily put the camera between my legs and pointed. Suddenly he yells, “Lech Me Po,” (Get out of here). For an ice cream addict to give up his favorite ice cream and this case a camera buff it is just not that easy. But I put my camera down and just sat there.

People might claim that nothing can happen between two individuals with one sitting on a boat and the other sitting on the pier barely acknowledging the other’s presence, but I claim things happen differently. I felt a cosmic force coming between the fisherman and me. I was impelled to just stay there. I put up my camera casually between my legs and pointed again. But this time I was not so fortunate. He lifted up a garden hose from the boat and squirted me for one complete minute. I guess most sensible people would have stood up and walked away but I just turned my back to protect my camera. He put away the garden hose and we went back to our same positions: He sitting on the old wooden chair fishing and I sitting on a white bucket looking out in the sea. I tried once more but this time he soaked me good and didn’t stop until I stood up and walked away. As I walked away, I had this crazy idea that we were becoming friends. I felt this strange energy. He was sitting alone on the boat. I was walking alone. Maybe these two lone spirits were meant to be friends.

So the next day I came back and sat on the same white plastic bucket. The same old man was fishing. He pointed a hose at me, but this time I put my camera in my bag. He kept fishing but we started talking. His name was Rahid. He said his name was just like the city in Saudi Arabia. I told him my name, Brad. I told him that I was living in Jerusalem and studying Hebrew. Rahid told me he was Muslim so I knew instantly why he didn’t want his photograph taken. A Muslim believes that a photograph will take away your spirit. He told me he had been a fisherman for thirty years. He said that G-d gives him everything he wants from the sea. He had been sick for several months and was in the hospital. Now he can come back and fish in the sea. The sea gives his spirit a fresh breeze... Then another man came to join us. His name was Joseph and I learned that he was Christian. Rahid said that there are 99 names for G-d but there is just one G-d. Rahid said people should live together in peace. Rahid, Joseph and I drank coffee together. I hate coffee but I drank it anyway.

The fisherman and me
sitting in his boat