I think I'm dumb, or maybe just happy.

Did I say how much I liked Abraham Hostel?

I like it too much. In fact, I may never leave it. I’m thinking of getting a chronic-volunteer visa, you know.

Exaggeration. But it’s cool, really.

Chilled out vibe, colourful walls, super friendly co-workers. The work is easy and pleasant, and their breakfast is actually quite nutritious. Blah blah blah.

What makes Abraham Hostel cool is also the apparent absence of drunken British 20-year-olds who populate Australian backpacker places like plague (not that I have anything against the British, the 20 year olds, or the drunks); most of the hostel’s patrons are middle-aged, and religious.

Take my two roommates: A. and B. are Canadian, middle-aged and super sweet. They greeted me heartily when I arrived. They asked many questions about my background and experiences, and they sounded appropriately gob-smacked by my answers. Then the ominous question was asked (by A., the more eloquent one):

“Do you believe in God?”

“I don’t know”, I responded according to the truth, trying to sound like I was genuinely seeking some truth that was "out there", as well as puzzled by my spiritual limbo, which I actually was a little.

“I see” said A. “Well, I’ve been there too. But then…I’ll never forget the day when I found Jesus”

“What’s up with that?” I thought, but then a long, passionate story of A.’s seeking and eventual conversion to Christianity followed – backed up by many quotes from the Bible – and I knew: A. and B. were looking for another sheep to join their herd. It’s a funny thing, that power of persuasion. But the end of the spiel I felt as if I’d been sucked into some kind of a void, my vision went blurry, my limbs grew weak – I even acquiesced to a prayer for my soul, which A. conducted curled into a ball on a bunk bed. The prayer was frank and ardent, and it actually melted something in my heart. But then I was fried. I needed to regroup almost as badly as I needed to pee.

“Remember, God loves you” called B. after me, as I was making my hasty retreat to the bathroom. This sentence, as well as too much sin talk (“Human nature is sinful”) already started to grate on my nerves, and I had a slightly ill feeling that A. and B. were going to grate me with them again. So far I haven’t been mistaken; I’ve been hearing it every day. What’s worse: I’ve started to believe them.

I also live with Richard (not his real name). He often plonks his great behind upon the bunk below me, making the bed shake and wheeze with exertion. Then he rants how his internet wouldn’t work, and how the Israel-Palestine conflict is to take responsibility for this. My introduction to Richard was less than sweet. He accused me of having malicious thoughts, before I even had a chance to form any at all. He’s obviously a soul in pain and I’ve been trying to break him by my kindness (offering to lend him my laptop, where the wifi is fine etc.). The progress is slow. I’m fearing I might be coming down with a slight case of Samarithropia* and it’s only been a few days!

Overall I’m intoxicated with Old Jerusalem: with its white walls, and ringing of the church bells and muezzins singing “Allah Akbar”, and the orthodox Jews rushing past in different configurations of pairs, groups and singles; all is happening at once as I stroll through the ancient paths, stroked by the warm, dry desert wind.

It’s just like one grungy, suicidal dude used to sing: “I think I’m dumb, or maybe just happy”.

* "Samaritrophia, hysterical indifference to the troubles of those less fortunate than oneself. Samaritrophia (…) is the suppression of an overactive conscience by the rest of the mind." (term coined by Kurt Vonnegut)