I heard about this stabbing while I sat in little Arab restaurant with two of my good Palestinian friends. While we sat catching up on our lives, Nermeen received a phone call from her mom, checking in. She had heard that a Palestinian man had stabbed six Jews - but didn't know the details.
I had met my friends for dinner an hour and a half late. I arrived at 8 for a 6:30 dinner appointment. My bus, which I had left my house at 5:45 to take, didn't arrive until well after 6:30. I had no idea what could be delaying it, but about 6:25, I began to hear festive Klezmer music (Eastern European Jewish music - you can listen to it here, should you be interested). After a few minutes, I suspected it was getting louder, and indeed, by about 6:40, I could distinctly hear an accordion. I assumed it was some sort of festival or concert, but it continued to get louder. By 6:45, I saw a big motorhome-type vehicle, decorated with bright colors and blasting music, inching down the road, from the direction of my missing bus. Nothing could get past that road-block. Behind it, moving ever so slowly down the road, was a group of perhaps 50 Orthodox Jews, men and boys in their black suits accented with white shirts and dark, curled earlocks, dancing in circles (essentially this consists of a kind of jogging forward to the rhythm, while holding hands with the others in the circle, raising and lowering them together as they sing exultantly). Some of the men held little girls, but the rest of the female groupies followed behind in skirts and long sleeves, pushing strollers.
Painted on the side of the big motor home was "Welcome King Messiah" - in Hebrew, of course. I really don't know what messianic movement this is, so I've been doing some research to figure it out. I know there are a few that have sprung up in Hasidic circles in recent decades, and I'm not sure if this is one of those, and why they're welcoming this king messiah...I'll get back to you on this.
In any case, these joyous dancers remained stationed at the corner of the street, entirely uncaring of my growing angst over being so late. I may have found this little spectacle charming, or at least quirky and interesting. Instead, I found myself growing almost angry. But finally a police woman directed them to turn the corner (some other people's problem!), the bus squeezed through the mass of honking cars, and I was on my way.
Ha! After only a few minutes, on a bus full of irritated passengers on their phones apologizing for their extreme tardiness, the bus came to a halt again, behind another train of cars. For ten minutes, we inched forward. I had no idea what the hold up was, but a paramedic motorcycle sped by (paramedic motorcycle - isn't that a fantastic idea! In cities with crowded streets, it is literally a lifesaver!), followed by a full-on ambulance, which took a lot of time and maneuvering, as several buses had to try to squeeze to the side to let it pass.
Finally, when the bus approached an actual stop, I took the opportunity of jumping off and walking - certainly I would get there faster that way!
I'm sure I did, but after about five minutes, I found myself in the middle of the actual gay pride parade (my first one, I should add!) I mentioned above. It was stopped - I didn't know why - and police were everywhere. (Jerusalem boasts a mounted police unit, and as I pushed through the crowd, I slipped past two mounted policemen. I was cursing myself for not having my camera. The horses are huge - I'm not sure what breed - and clearly very well-trained - they stood stock still and calm as people looked around wonderingly.)
Despite my lack of forward thinking, the internet comes through with a great pic!
Anyway, I wended my way, grumbling again and again that this darn, ancient city, had no direct roads (at least, not where I was - there are a few) anywhere. I worked up a good, heart-pounding sweat hiking back up the wadi I had just descended (Gehenna, where Judas purportedly hung himself, and that has other amazing historical tales associated with it - check it out on Wikipedia), up to enter the Old City, and after passing some amazing vistas (if only I had a camera and no friends waiting for me!), the entrance to the ancient Western Wall of the Temple, the archaeological excavations on the south side, the ancient Jewish cemetery and across the Kidron Valley, and then through the Ottoman-era Muslim cemetery that blocks Jerusalem's Golden Gate, I arrived at Lion's Gate. Only to find out that my friend made a mistake - I should have met her at Herod's Gate. Sigh. I could have gone a quicker way.
The giggle? That I rushed through all of these fabulously historical, famous, and meaningful places in the world's holiest place, to sit down sweaty and tired to a lackluster dinner at an otherwise empty restaurant, as my friends smoked hookah and we chatted about frivolities.
This is Golden Gate, and the Muslim Cemetery
This is the Kidron Valley. Note the thousands of smaller tombs all over the lower, southern part of the Mount of Olives - Jews buried here expect to be the first to be resurrected and greet the Messiah when He comes. Below them are three New Testament era tombs. Many believe that it was to these Jesus referred when He spoke of the hypocrisy of the Pharisees and Jewish teachers, who on the outside were "whitewashed," but inside full of dead bones and unclean (Matt. 23:27).
So, giggles and grumbles. The grumbles abound, but I've mostly covered them in previous posts. It is taxing to spend time in such a conflict-ridden place. Imagine living here! It's truly no wonder Israelis are notoriously brusque and curt! Yet, as I mentioned, they are good - Israelis and Palestinians. Last night, as I finally boarded the bus, an elderly woman with a walker and stiff, tired legs, asked me to help her. As I struggled to help her, an Israeli guy with long curly hair and a tank top jumped down to help. Then, as the bus began to speed away (this is a grumble and a chuckle, in other circumstances), and the woman desperately tried to steady herself before sitting down to a seat someone had vacated for her near the front of the bus, the whole bus grumpily yelled at the driver, "Rega!" - "Wait a second!" so she could get settled.
It's the bus that brings me most of the chuckles. Many of us in the States are rather privileged and haven't had to ride the bus consistently a lot. But even compared to Boston, where I've ridden my fair share, Jerusalem buses are a hoot. They accelerate and slow/stop rather abruptly, move faster than seems safe to me, and the streets are quite curvy and hilly. It's never a dull ride. Every time I get on, I grip the poles tightly and shuffle awkwardly down the aisle until I find either a seat or a permanent spot to which I can secure myself for those inevitable jerks (not a person) that threaten to topple even the most firmly gripped passenger.
Sometimes I find a seat in the back, which is always elevated. It is from that comfortable perch that I often people watch, chuckling at the drunken manner in which every single person, no matter the age or muscle tone, stumbles down the same aisle I did. My favorite is seeing someone on the phone who thinks they can hack it, leans against a pole or positions their legs in a fashion that they think will steady them against the lurching, and then goes flying into someone near them when the bus takes a turn or slams on the breaks unexpectedly (which, actually, they should know by now is always entirely expected!). On the bus, personal space diminishes significantly - through such counters as just mentioned, from the need to push past people to the exit, or simply the common experience of shoving as many on as we can. Always a joy.
Another quick giggle is the famous "Monster Slide" that lives about a block away from me. I noticed it on my first evening walk, and for a while, I thought perhaps it was some kind of modern art attempt at a large cow. I soon concluded it was really just a weird slide (but way cool!). Then I found out from various people, when they inquired where I was living, that this slide is a landmark. It's famous! And I'm delighted to tell you that I now know the Hebrew word for "monster" - and that I was even able to explain to a woman on the bus, as she struggled to hold on to a cute little 6 or 7 month old baby, plus two other small children, where the "Mifletzet" was located. I'm practically a local.
Apparently another reason my part of town is famous is that nearby is a development called "Holy Land." It used be a hotel and little park that housed replicas of Jerusalem from the Old Testament, New Testament and modern period. It is very fun to see, and is now located near the Israeli national museum. Previous Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert is now going to prison (unless he, like many Israelis, finds a way out of it) for accepting bribes during his term from a real estate developer to create the following high-end apartment complex.
I drive by this in the bus every day.
A final little joy is that I finally found the little olive wood shop of the famous (among Mormon visitors to Jerusalem) Omar. He truly was a kind, engaging, and talented man. Anyone going to Jerusalem, make sure to stop at Omar's! The piece he is holding is way out of my price range, but it was my favorite, and one day...
Oops - almost forgot ONE more. I visited one of my professors in southern Israel this week. He owns a farm with olive trees and a vineyard - he makes his own olive oil and wine. I got to taste Merlot, Shiraz, and Cabernet Sauvignon grapes. Don't worry - I didn't accept the wine! But it was pretty cool to see how it's made!
And that's all the giggles and grumbles I have for now. I'll be back in Utah this time next week. Surely time with my family will provide plenty of good blog material - both grumbles and giggles!
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