Tag Archives: smoking

Renaming MyPop to POSSS, and recalling Banias

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By Louis the Scooterer

Oh well.. I love being a quitter (like when I quit smoking !) but I hate being a “loser” as I am NOW with smokers all around.. and them winning, and by choice I need to leave a place.

Today.. this beautiful beginning-of-summer-morning..first cup of coffee at the square where the smokers were in the millions..even though there was a pleasant breeze.. I left when it became unbearable. I then scooted to coffee at Mypop which I now call POSSS (place of smelly stinking smokers)..as the other millions of smokers come there.

I get the impression that the owners / partners supply free cigarettes ? coz the place has become very popular, and remains a beautiful place. but, when many people are there, they have lost ME.. (who cares..no one gives a damn?)

Anyway this morn I even saw the owners smoking inside the restaurant !!.. thats bad news (for me), and my decision is to reduce my visits at mypop and go ONLY when they open in the morning, and when I can be the first one there.

Surely I will miss seeing the bikini beauties, and other people that I previously exchanged chats with.. but as I watched 3 newcomers sit at the next table 1 meter from me..all 3 began smoking.. then 2 others arrived and sat at another table 3 meters from me and both began smoking.. (and I refuse to take pics of smokers, any more.).. that means that the 5 newcomers were all smoking.. that means 100% newcomers were smoking ?? and while I breathed-in and swollowed their stinky smelly smells..I wondered at which place will I be happy.

I thought about my visit to such a place ..BANIAS.. and I relate here about that visit to that most beautiful place…

There are 2 main roads to the only Ski Site in Israel way up north, on top of Mount Hermon. The more popular route, takes you past the foot of Mt. Hermon where the source of Hermon Stream flows, at a mysterious place called BANIAS. I had visited Banias several times by scooter and in a rented car, and because I knew I couldn’t walk much, I usually stood at the entrance gate to this awesome place, received brochures and maps with walking routes.. and stared in wonderment what was directly in front of me.

The gigantic arched entrances into the mountain caves, waterfalls, running water, ancient workings and remnants of buildings, and knowing that much walking is required. But my old knee wouldnt allow..so I sat on the saddle or in the rentcar for a few minutes, took a picture or two, and then moved along to elsewhere. Well..this is my story about a proper visit, a couple of years later, after receiving a TKR (Total Knee Replacement). Now at this time, I am able to walk some distances, painfree (perhaps with some stiffness), and started doing what I hadn’t done for so many years.

I climbed up steps and walked on broken rocks and on beautiful grass lawns and next to the flowing waters in many areas in this incredible place, walking along the fast flowing very narrow streams and up and down rock steps and on muddy sand over little bridges through narrow tunnels. This was a new experience for a more than 70 year old scooterer..this trip was on my scooter. One of the excellent sites on internet is http://www.jafi.org.il/education/noar/sites/banias.htm. It was marvellous seeing many groups of children visiting this place, as well as many tour buses arriving with tourists from all around the world. There are also places with many tables and benches under trees for picnicking, or taking a rest.

There are several different routes to follow, and I chose what looked like the “easiest and shortest” (purple route). (Not to kid myself)..this was a long and most interesting winding route which comes upon a longtime-disused hydro-electric plant, and cellars and ancient flour mills and other buildings that need time to explore, and I walked crossed a Roman Bridge… and need to know where to make the left-turn at the correct spot…(to follow the purple arrows). I even came across a tiny kiosk run by an old Druze man, and I jumped back in time at least 100 years seeing this spot..and “chatting” with this “picturesque chap”.. and eating what he makes..a thin bread filled with goat cheese, with a cool drink, or his special blend of tea.


The streams flow non stop, and in wonderment I stand at many spots and take my hat off to those who designed these places for hikers and children and even older ones like me. I passed through underground tunnels to archaeological diggings, found plaques with English translations about what stands at a particular spot…and always found a place to sit in the shade.

Later I met with tourists from USA and another group from Nigeria. Many groups of Christians travel in buses with their church leaders and guides..and my take on that is, unfortunately the time they spent at this magic place, is far too short to really explore. I casually joined one of these groups and listened to a well informed guide telling about some of the spots where they stop..take pics..listen to a quick story..and move along.

After taking a coffee at the kiosk, and being very satisfied with my (new knee) achievement..and pleasantly tired..I chatted with tourists and staff, and listened to their stories. I then scooted along a couple of kms..down the road.. to the BANIAS FALLS.. and stood at the viewsite, and with my binoculars I could see many hikers of all ages, climbing up the pathways to eventually arrive at the Roman Bridge (where I was earlier).

I learned that at the spot where I was standing, there are 100 steps to the bottom to see the falls… and my decision was “those 100 steps down and up again” ??.will be for another time…and I waved goodbye to the couple who began the climb down.

Did I mention not to forget camera and wear comfortable walking shoes.. SO..dear reader spend a few minutes (google to Banias) and start planning your visit. Feel free to email me louisdrinkingt@013.net

Louis gets smoked out. A nation of black lungs.

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By Louis the Scooterer

I don’t want to..BUT, Maybe move away from MyPoP

Well the story about the women walkers is something like this. A large factory from way down south, sends women workers from all departments in a couple of buses to spend a couple of nights and a few days at a beautiful hotel, where they are pampered in the spa and do early morning exercises, and some swim and a few pop into the gym. Then they go walking at their pace to many places in Netanya.

The majority speak no English and I really didn’t have much communication with the guides..

And as I settled down in my favourite chair at my favourite table at MyPoP, I began being bothered by my number one problem. That is breathing the smoke and smells of smokers, and when I looked around, couldnt believe my eyes..almost everyone there were smoking. The sporting people who ride bicycles and the surfers and the fisherman and the swimmers and the joggers and the walkers. Yes I couldnt believe it but my camera doesn’t lie, and some pics are telling the full story.Even the mother breastfeeding her baby was a smoker.

Oh well, I don’t smoke.


A few of my friends that don’t smoke:

Some of the animal visitors and birds and horses, and the rare “other person”. Oh hell I dont really want to leave this place, but maybe even the wind changing direction and bringing the smoke to me will be the decider. I felt that perhaps the partners / owners and all the staff are smokers, and that maybe they invited so many smokers to come and enjoy these beautiful surroundings. I wonder!

And guess what ? When I came back to the square to find a friend, there they were again. So many smokers, and I refused to take more pics, but one that caught my eye was this old chap with a long full white beard who always stands at the door of his office..smoking..this time I saw him flicking away a half smoked cigarette..and on the sidewalk, in front of his office, were more than 20 cigarette butts.

Bye for now, and please ..between cigarettes.. will you email me at
louisdrinkingt@013.net

The Time is Now

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By D. E. Boone

Every step required more exertion than I cared to give. The wheezing sound from my throbbing lungs, added to my discomfort. My chest felt like it was on fire. With a cigarette dangling from two fingers, I reached into my back pocket, pulled out my inhaler and raised it to my lips. Then I alternated between puffing on the nicotine stick and sucking down the asthma pump. I had reached an all-time low.

I thought about my doctor’s words. I saw him as he stood over me in his white generic lab coat. His tone was distant and cold. “You have Asthma related bronchitis.” What is that? I thought. He never really told me. He just gave me an inhaler pump, then told me to get used to it.

I was too young for this. How could I, “get used to it?” Never once did he tell me to quit smoking. The frown on his long thin face spoke volumes. He didn’t believe I could quit. He didn’t know that I had quit smoking many times. Of course, I went back again with the first stress I encountered. Once, I quit for three months. Thanks to hypnosis. But the post hypnotic suggestion soon wore off. But this was different; my health was at stake this time. Also, I wanted to show up my doctor.

So, I planned it out in my head. I needed four days to detoxify my body. I knew I couldn’t handle work related stress. So, I took off Friday and Monday. I was conditioned to smoking every two hours. It would be especially difficult at work. I knew I had to give up my smoking buddies. I would miss standing outside in sub zero temperature smoking with them.

I discarded all cigarettes and ashtrays. I didn’t want any reminders around. Then, I went to the grocery store and stocked up. I would lock myself up in my apartment. I didn’t even want to go outside for a gallon of water.

The rest is all a blur. I vaguely remember cold sweats, vomiting, headaches, and bouts of nervousness. I turned off my phone. The last thing I needed was to hear my friends say: “oh you are quitting again?” It was apparent that my friends had lost faith in my abilities to quit smoking. But this was the most extreme method yet. I would exclude them until I had it beat. I didn’t want to hear a single “I told you so.”

When I emerged from my self-imposed prison, the real work would begin. Like a drug addict, I had to avoid all smokers. I stayed away from the clubs and bars. I had to learn proper stress management. So, I joined a gym, learned yoga, and took up meditation.

Two months later, one of my friends asked me if I still smoked? “Why do you ask? I inquired. She said it just dawned on her that she hasn’t seen me with a cigarette in a long time. Quite an accomplishment, I thought. I was so pleased. She would be the first person I would tell. With my feet planted firmly, and my chest poked out. I raised my head, as if singing to the world. “Yes, I quit smoking.”

It’s been five years since I have gone through that ordeal. I still haven’t smoked. I threw my inhaler away, and never had another attack of bronchitis. I feel great. I look great, too. Oh, and I found a new doctor.

D. E. Boone on D.E. Boone
I live in New York City. Every time I think I have all the answers, someone changes the questions. I am working on a novel and a play. Of course, working a full time job, means there is never enough hours in a day. I am always growing, and trying to learn new things. Writing allows me to be heard. If I write something that touches you in any way, don’t hesitate to let me know. (via Feedback)