54. Jerusalem, 1998 - United over drink
In which Eleanor raises a cheer.
Eleanor's head hurts. The last time she drunk this much was at University. What's she hiding this time?
Eleanor
27 October, 1998
I am not sure why I am even trying to write tonight. I am definitely not sober. Was out to dinner with the gang and then we went on to a new bar on Jabotinsky Street. Jointly owned and operated by Palestinians and Israelis.
United over drink.
I can raise a cheer to that!
Ow. My head hurts. And my mouth feels like sandpaper.
The last time I drank this much was at University, that night out with Alasdair, Meredith and Sebastian. Where I mixed drinks and was taking antidepressants. That was a recipe for a hangover from hell! One of the only hangovers I’ve ever had. Except for this one.
Ouch.
I can still remember hearing Alasdair telling Sebastian, “Hit me again! Harder! Like you mean it. I have to sober up enough to carry her.” And then the next thing I remember is Alasdair standing over me in the women’s shower, turning it on, while I was still in my puked-upon clothes.
Urgh. Not one of my finer moments.
It’s just me now, alone in the apartment. With the cats. And my head in this vice grip. Why am I this hungover? Did I really drink that much?
Oh right, I’m on antidepressants.
Note to Eleanor: alcohol and antidepressants do not make happy bedfellows. But this unholy place, and Francois’ moods, and the loneliness, and the unending tension, and the smell of impending violence like the reek of uncollected trash…sometimes it’s just too much. I haven’t been sleeping well, can’t keep focused at work, and have no motivation for anything. I have so many things to do. And I just don’t care. It’s all so pointless. The endlessness of the peace process going nowhere. The bombs, the shootings, the protests, the closures. The promises. The lies.
Well, at least the world isn’t spinning this morning. There’s that. I remember lying in my res room bed after that night out with Alasdair, putting one foot out, trying to stop the room from spinning, spinning, spinning. Then Alasdair showing up with orange juice and Eno’s.
Eno’s. Damn, don’t have any of those. It will just have to be Panado1 then. And water, lots of water. I remember Alasdair telling me that.
But wow, we did have fun last night! “The gang,” as Thomas has nicknamed us, is lovely. With Damien back in the UK, and the Cathedral no longer a place I want to go to, I feel blessed to have Thomas and “the gang”. Jamal and Suheir are such a lovely, warm couple. Jamal reminds me so much of Tig—with his bent towards all things mountaineering. He and Rajji are getting us all out hiking, really hiking.
Alright, Panado. Tea. Then back to bed.
Common brand of South African brand of paracetamol (acetaminophen).
Learning hard lessons personally and politically... And lived to tell about it!!