What are you doing in Israel?

I'm going to a juggling festival.

What is juggling?

It is a where you throw stuff into the air.

I don't understand. Where are you going?

I'm going to somewhere, um, in the north.

Who do you know in Israel?

Um, I know a guy called Isaac... and... um...

Who is picking you up at the airport?

Um... somone called Dan.

So you are jiggling?

Yes.

It all got a bit bizarre from there on in. You see, I'd never met any of the people who had invited me to the Israeli juggling convention, I'd only ever emailed and chatted on ICQ. And the man picking me up at the airport was another person who I'd only ever emailed him. I never had any of these people's phone numbers. And the officer could hardly speak a word of English. In the end, after I had demonstrated my jiggling I got through and headed to a cash machine to get some local currency. Thankfully my bank account coughed up the cash I needed.

A juggler called Dan picked me up from the airport and took me to his home for a few hours. There I had my first meal in Israel consisting of Matza and peaches. Matza is a very dry biscuit, a bit like Ryvitta. Now normally on the Sabbath (Saturday) you can only eat this or that and not this and that, I was lucky enough to arrive in the middle of Passover, when you aren't allowed to eat anything. Or near enough.

I found it amazing that in the food shops and supermarkets whole shelves were blocked off, cupboards were locked and departments emptied so you couldn't break the rules of Kosher food. Fair enough, you may think, but then in some of those same shops you could buy as much porn as you want, some even had automatic XXX video vending machines on the walls outside. All very bizarre.

After having breakfast at Dan's house I was taken to Fred's house. Fred and family took me up to the convention site. We took the scenic route. Well, we took the route that didn't take us past any trouble spots, it being Land Day, the main day for lots of people to get angry at each other for various reasons and throw petrol bombs at passing cars.

We arrived at Betshean National Park, a very beautiful park built around a series of hot springs. Easily the best convention site I've been to. Unfortunately the main juggling hall was a barn. Or a it felt like a barn. It was a huge dusty sports hall that seems like it only gets used once a year and the rest of the time is only occupied by 2 or 3 families of pigeons. And they stayed in residence throughout the convetion too, along with various other birds, which was a bit annoying. Birdshit isn't a pleasant thing to drop on you, or for you to drop your juggling props onto.

On the other hand, I woke up each morning with a swim under a waterfall, which is more than all my fellow British jugglers back in Whitstable can say. I'd decided against a wet weekend in Kent at the BJC in favour of a cheap holiday to a Hot Place™. I'm very glad I did.

On Saturday afternoon I didn't do much. The car I arrived in was one of the first at the site and I didn't have a tent to pitch so I sat at the side of the gym and watched lots of people turn up. I gave the juggling knife to Itsik Orr, the convention organiser, met Uri, a juggler I'd chatted to a bit on the internet, met Zee, a juggler who lived just up the road from the convention who I chatted to for a while, and lots of other people. A big surprise for me was when I saw Michal turn up. I travelled to the EJC with Michal the year before and had no idea she was going to be in Israel. It was good to have another British juggler, or should I say poi swinger, around for the duration of the convention.

I don't think I juggled at all on Saturday, maybe for a minute or so. I did play with modelling balloons quite a bit though, and ate passover friendly pancakes. To be honest, I had very little energy to do anything on Saturday, I'd only had that half hour sleep on the plane and a few minutes at Fred's house since Friday morning. I was shown a room where I could sleep and curled up a ball on the floor, disappointed that there was no alcohol being sold anywhere in the country, let alone the convention site, due to the passover. It must be the first convention I've been to where I haven't had at least one drink on the first night to settle myself in.

I had a fitful night sleep. I'm used to sleeping on a floor each night, I don't have a bed at home and I prefer to sleep on hotel floors when away with work. Beds are a luxury I'm happier without. In fact, I've not slept in a bed for over a year now. The thing is about that particular floor was the people shouting and treading on me as they walk past and the dogs sniffing around my face.

Sunday.