To Jerusalem or This would never happen in the US

August 7, 2007

To Jerusalem and first days

Forgot to mention that on the last day of the Ulpan I counted the steps from my dorm room to my classroom. 21 down, then 269 up. And the reverse on the way back. Just to get from my dorm room to common room areas was 21 down and 72 up.

When I got to the bus stop on Monday morning, Steven was already there. And Meir was sitting right near him. I called him by name and he was delighted I remembered it. We talked for a few minutes then he left, assuring us he would be back. The ten o’clock departure time rolled around and no Meir. We went off to stand in line and suddenly he showed up and explained something that remains unintelligible—the other bus might be full, if not he’ll give us a ride down to Jerusalem alone. (Hmm, now it makes sense—both buses had to go to Jerusalem, but if the other one had room for more passengers, he was going to just burn down there anyway, so could give us a ride.) That is what happened. We ended up in a green Egged bus with our personal chauffeur. Meir is an INCREDIBLY nice guy. He has four kids (three girls and a boy) and he and his wife run a zimmer—I include the website (www.tzofit.co.il/id/mul-har)—and, on the basis of our ride with him, would recommend the place. He drove us by Kinneret (aka Sea of Galilee), then by the Jordan border. It was a very straight shot that brought us an amazing view of the Dead Sea on the way into Jerusalem. (Which means, by the way, that we went right through the West Bank without realizing it.) We stopped for falafel—some of the best I’ve had (I know I keep saying that and really, I mean it every time. Damn, I love the stuff. I think an alternating diet of falafel and burritos would be fine with me). What amazed me about the ride was the incredible barrenness of most of it. (This barrenness, by the way, was in contrast to the area up to and around Kinneret—banana plantations, mangos, lychees, as well as vineyards and possibly peaches.) This wasn’t American desert bare. This was absolutely nothing growing. Nothing. There is a place in Torah where God has the Israelites face one mountain and receive blessings and face another to receive curses. Rick has seen the mountains and describes the one as lush, the other as barren. These were not those mountains (not a lush one there), but the barrenness sure looked like a curse to me. I left with the question of who wants this land and why.

Meir left us at a random bus stop, where Steven hailed a cab and I loaded my stuff onto a somewhat empty bus. It wound around town for a good while, picking up passengers at most stops. Which meant that when I finally got off, I had to wrestle a suitcase, a bag, and a backpack through about twenty people. Not a happy thing. Ended up, as I said yesterday, waiting for the landlady to open the door. I finally made it in. The landlady gave me a set of keys and I asked her whether I should return them. She is recovering from surgery, so said no, Yafa would get them to her the following day.

I got settled and headed out to get some change for the bus. At the end of the street I stopped—there was the Tayelet Haas. It is a promenade and park that sits across a valley from the Old City. It is a beautiful park in and of itself, but the view of the city—just hard to beat. I’ll let the pictures speak.

Got back, showered and was comfortably writing when the phone rang. Yafa asked very nicely if I could get the key back to her landlady who was having conniptions because it hadn’t come back by seven. I trotted down the stairs and was bawled out by this woman in a walker with both feet bandaged who asked me what she would have done had she wanted to leave? About the third time I apologized for inconveniencing me, she stopped grumbling. But man, talk about serious mixed messages!

Yafa is perhaps the polar opposite of Max and Hedva. She is a tour guide and we spent about an hour talking last night. But she is extremely busy—loves her work and is, I suspect, very good at it. But she isn’t around at all and, while polite and very welcoming, is not at all interested in a personal relationship. Which is fine with me—I’d like to get to know her, but really have no need. So that was yesterday and today has worn me out—I’ll try to catch up tomorrow, on my birthday.

Forgot to mention that on the last day of the Ulpan I counted the steps from my dorm room to my classroom. 21 down, then 269 up. And the reverse on the way back. Just to get from my dorm room to common room areas was 21 down and 72 up.

When I got to the bus stop on Monday morning, Steven was already there. And Meir was sitting right near him. I called him by name and he was delighted I remembered it. We talked for a few minutes then he left, assuring us he would be back. The ten o’clock departure time rolled around and no Meir. We went off to stand in line and suddenly he showed up and explained something that remains unintelligible—the other bus might be full, if not he’ll give us a ride down to Jerusalem alone. (Hmm, now it makes sense—both buses had to go to Jerusalem, but if the other one had room for more passengers, he was going to just burn down there anyway, so could give us a ride.) That is what happened. We ended up in a green Egged bus with our personal chauffeur. Meir is an INCREDIBLY nice guy. I don't really know why he decided to adopt us, but he did. I'm deciding that all Israelis are Jewish mothers, regardless of gender or age and regardless of the gender or age of the person being mothered. It's both extremely comforting and (as in the previous post) can be almost smothering. Anyway, Meir has four kids (three girls and a boy from 20 down to 6) and he and his wife run a zimmer—I include the website (www.tzofit.co.il/id/mul-har)--and, on the basis of our ride with him, would recommend the place. He drove us by Kinneret (aka Sea of Galilee), then by the Jordan border. It was a very straight shot that brought us an amazing view of the Dead Sea on the way into Jerusalem. (Which means, by the way, that we went right through the West Bank without realizing it.) We stopped for falafel—some of the best I’ve had (I know I keep saying that and really, I mean it every time. Damn, I love the stuff. I think an alternating diet of falafel and burritos would be fine with me). What amazed me about the ride was the incredible barrenness of most of it. (This barrenness, by the way, was in contrast to the area up to and around Kinneret—banana plantations, mangos, lychees, as well as vineyards and possibly peaches.) This wasn’t American desert bare. This was absolutely nothing growing. Nothing.

There is a place in Torah where God has the Israelites face one mountain and receive blessings and face another to receive curses. Rick has seen the mountains and describes the one as lush, the other as barren. These were not those mountains (not a lush one there), but the barrenness sure looked like a curse to me. I left with the question of who wants this land and why. By the way, Meir seemed a pretty secular guy, but our conversation included a whole lot of Torah, and he knew his stuff.

Meir left us at a random bus stop, where Steven hailed a cab and I loaded my stuff onto a somewhat empty bus. It wound around town for a good while, picking up passengers at most stops. Which meant that when I finally got off, I had to wrestle a suitcase, a bag, and a backpack through about twenty people. Not a happy thing. Ended up, as I said yesterday, waiting for the landlady to open the door. I finally made it in. The landlady gave me a set of keys and I asked her whether I should return them. She is recovering from surgery, so said no, Yafa would get them to her the following day.

I got settled and headed out to get some change for the bus. At the end of the street I stopped—there was the Tayelet Haas. It is a promenade and park that sits across a valley from the Old City. It is a beautiful park in and of itself, but the view of the city—just hard to beat. I walked for two hours--from one end to the other. Got my change by buying one of the richest ice cream bars I've ever tasted. Took a picture of a young Orthodox family from New York (at their request). After walking all the way there and back, I stopped to pick up the garbage strewn around an empty garbage can--animals, perhaps--and felt enormously virtuous.

Got back, showered and was comfortably writing when the phone rang. Yafa asked very nicely if I could get the key back to her landlady who was having conniptions because it hadn’t come back by seven. I trotted down the stairs and was bawled out by this woman in a walker with both feet bandaged who asked me what she would have done had she wanted to leave? About the third time I apologized for inconveniencing me, she stopped grumbling. But man, talk about serious mixed messages!

Yafa is perhaps the polar opposite of Max and Hedva. She is a tour guide and we spent about an hour talking last night. But she is extremely busy—loves her work and is, I suspect, very good at it. But she isn’t around at all and, while polite and very welcoming, is not at all interested in a personal relationship. Which is fine with me—I’d like to get to know her, but really have no need. So that was yesterday and today has worn me out—I’ll try to catch up tomorrow, on my birthday.