It was a quite noon in Nazareth. After having lunch followed by coffee, I had my little baby sleep and sat on my desk. I was surfing the internet to read about London Olympics, when I read about a fire in Greece, half an hour road from my hometown, one of the regular summer fires, which was nevertheless uncontrolled and seemed threatening. Just as regular as it seemed it kept me online till I read for the Burgas attack.
My focal point suddenly became Burgas! I had already forgotten London, and despite not forgetting the fire in Greece, I admit that it was the news from Burgas, which made me check back every five minutes, for 2 hours or so, until Naso, my son woke up! It was not before he slept once more for his night sleep, that I checked back. What will be next? Is it the end of the world? It was not the same tension I felt before. It was the feeling I previously only observed to Israelis. On the calendar was written: July 18th, 2012. Only 9 days till London, but did London matter anymore?
Next day I did what I use to do. I observed the people around me, tried to read their faces, tried to communicate with them. The newspapers had big fat letters stressing that what happened in Burgas was terrible; and it was. The tone was dramatic. Nevertheless, as I went on with my daily schedule, improving my Hebrew, returning home to stay with my son, or to the Gallery which hosts my wife’s work, there was not really time for the people to spend on discussing the Burgas attack. Few of them referred to London and London Olympics though. This is called immunity I thought for a moment, but it was not immunity. People were sad, there was a scratch on their faces, on their skin, but they knew more scratches will be. Thus, they should not let the heart be scratched all those times. They should protect it! So, I walked around and bought falafel, bought fruits in the market and drank coffee at Aroma. I really could not see those scratches when people got to be active. It really seemed they are all still the same. It appears that I was the one who looked different and still wonder if they noticed.
The Olympiad of London was about to start and started. Israelis who arrived in Burgas just before the attack stayed there and enjoyed the rest of their vacation. Would a second terror attack in Burgas happen during the same summer? Not really probable. As I had reached to my (illusionary) conclusion, I sat on the sofa feeling calm and turned the TV on to watch the ceremony of London Olympics. Israel was refused a minute’s silence on remembrance of the 11 dead Israelis during the Olympic games of Munich. Nevertheless, the Israeli athletes had black handkerchiefs in their pockets. Those black handkerchiefs must have momentarily relieved the families of Burgas’ victims.
London Olympics is still on, Israelis will keep visiting Burgas during it and hope for some won medal in London. They will keep visiting Burgas after London as well. Life will go on and should go on, as preserving our precious moments is vital. I really do not feel much changed since Burgas for the world or for Israelis. Everything changed for the families of the dead and injured though. Following the path from Burgas to London does not resemble to the one from Ilida to Olympia. Thus, I am turning my head back to the Elis I know, before I join all others – and will join – to the next Burgas trip.
Burgas – London – Burgas
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