Traveling to be with family

Dearest Blog readers,

I apologize for my lack of writing this past week. Starting last weekend I began traveling from the North to South of this awesome country, and I had the brilliant idea NOT to bring my computer. In retrospect this was a silly idea, because now the memories only burn dimly in my mind, but I promise to give it my best.

Starting from my last entry I will give you the highlights. First, Orly’s husband corrected me that his name is in fact not Saul, but Saar. To the untrained American ear the ‘L’ sound at the end of Saul is almost guttural, or as guttural as the language gets. So when I heard “Saa” and then a guttural noise I assumed it to be a ‘L.’ Pretty insulting when in hebrew Saar is the word for storm, and easy enough for a baby to say. Oops. I apologized and then tried to say Saar giving my ‘R’ the noise I was hearing. Alas, the ‘R’ is a difficult transition, most American speakers do not pronounce the Hebrew ‘R’ and most Israelis cannot pronounce the English ‘R.’ So, I met this crossroads with the utmost grace and said, “Yes! Sir Saar (pronounced like SARS)”.

Besides this hiccup, Orly and Saar took me to the Sea of Galilee and to where Jesus was baptized. The river was blue and cloudy, like that of the water at a theme park. It sat calmly, undisturbed, say the brown beaver, rat-pig creatures paddling around its shores. Yes, I have found one of the ugliest creatures, and it has made its home in the holy land. How do I describe this mammal? First, it is small and brown. From afar I thought it might be an otter. Yet, when I approached its body was that of a beaver. But, one essential beaver feature was missing, the wide tail. Instead of the comforting tail I had known from childhood I saw an extremely large rat tail. Further examination led me to find that this horrid animal also had a piggly snout and orange beaver teeth. What would Moses say, I ask! This thing (the Copyu) is proof of G-d’s existence or perhaps the opposite.

A few days later, we were all looking forward to going to Eric’s (Aryeh) for a Chanukah party. Aryeh, his wife (Yael), and their two beautiful girls (Leah and Yudid) live in Bet Shemesh. Now if you are a news savvy individual or live in Israel you know that this area has had some issues lately. Primarily, it is a rather religious community. Recently, there was a small group of religious men who have been clamoring about on the public buses demanding that all women sit in the back and only men in the front. It got so bad that when a religious young woman refused to move she was covered by all the newspapers and celebrated, reminding me of what it might have been like for Rosa Parks in the more liberal newspapers. These same men have continued their harassments of women on the bus and now have started spitting on women that are not properly dressed (fully length skirt, long sleeves, no skin showing but hands, neck and face). Everyday there seems to be a new story on these jerks. They do not represent the majority, but do put a foul taste in the mouth of the non-religious people of Israel. Despite the religious troublemakers we were excited to have the family together.

Before making our way to their home we when to a stalagmite cave. Of course we have these in America, but I had never seen one in person. It was amazing. Huge rock formations surrounded us. As we walked through we imagined how each looked, some like ice cream others like lovers embracing. Constantly each of us would say, “Hey! Look there!” There was a beauty there indescribable by words and given no justice by picture. Then I say, when given the chance, go to such a place and be amazed that it takes 30 years for one drop to make its way from the ground to the bottom of the cave below. After this, we left for Aryeh’s.

Dressed in their orthodox attire Aryeh and Yael welcomed everyone to their home. While we waited to eat and for the other guests Aryeh had us play an intelligent game. He asked a question of each person and if their answer was correct they received a chocolate, golden coin. Typical of a Jewish family, make any activity a learning experience about the Jewish people and rewarding (and or ending) with food. All the dishes were with dairy, because during Chanukah we eat dairy and not meat. The reasoning behind this is strange, basically some guy ate dairy and then he was murdered by this lady… So we eat dairy. Alright, I’m not giving the story justice, but you get the picture. After eating our fill and lighting the candles, everyone said their goodbyes. I was spending the night, and was glad to greet bed. The next morning I spent time with the little girls. At the ages of four and two these little ones would chat up a storm, with no care that I couldn’t understand. Most of our conversations involved me repeating several key words: ken, lo, lahchon, tov, bay-sader, mazay (yes, no, right, good, ok, what’s that). Sometimes I would repeat what they said, but I was always be corrected. “Lo!” they would say, then they would repeat the word again. I would try to mimic and yet again, ‘LO’ would be the result. Ok, I would say or I would ask the adults to translate. Even with our large language barrier, the girls and I bonded. They would hold my hand and we would play simple games, like making faces. That’s the best thing about children they don’t even need words to love something.

Once we had gotten a packed lunch together and dressed everyone we set out to take the bus to Jerusalem. Leah fell asleep in my lap as I watched the countryside go by. This area of Israel is very hilly, but there is so much chalk rock and limestone here it seems that they would qualify as small mountains. Communities hug the top of each hill, like fudge on a scoop of ice cream. There are many religious people, and I supposed I looked the part. Out of respect I had worn a long skirt, tights, long sleeve shirt and a jacket. The city had recently been revamped, I was told, and the streets, light-rail, and bus station were new to make things more efficient. And they were! But I didn’t feel like I was entering a holy city, but a great flea market, farmers market, and outdoor mall. Aryeh led us towards the old city, where the buildings were close together. The ground and walls were the same like a labyrinth of stone that guided us to underground markets and then to the western wall. This particular wall is the outer wall of what used to be “the temple” in the jewish religion. It is the most holy of places, but religious jews dear not go closer than the western wall because it is too holy and they are seen as impure. To become pure you would need a red cow to sacrifice and then with its ashes and some ritual, and then would be pure enough to approach such a place. Unfortunately, we are fresh out of red cow. The original temple is gone now, and its exact location is up to some debate. Ironically, the current building in its stead is a mosque. I watched as men and women split into groups with a small wooden barrier between them. The voices of men chanting, talking, and praying were heard bouncing off the stones, but the women were quiet. Many women held a sedur (a prayer book) and were reading a prayer rocking back and forth towards the wall as they prayed. Closer to the wall women would press their heads against the stone, as if whispering a secret to a person on the other side. A defensive line of praying bodies protected the wall. My intention was to reach the stones, but six feet from the towering holy place I stopped. Even now I cannot explain why I didn’t go forward to touch the wall. I think that I would have felt guilty. Had I gone and touched it, it would have been nothing to me, but a large wall of stone. So I stood, hoping that some sign or compulsion inside me would make me step closer, but I never moved. The women around me dressed in wigs, long dresses, or army attire prayed and once done walked backwards, insuring they never turned their back on the most holy of places. Satisfied with my people watching I also retreated backwards.

It was then time to find the bus to return home. The first bus was terribly full, and little Yudid sat on my lap. So happy and playful, American people would ooh and aw over such demeanor, but in Israel she was asked to be quiet. Leah, in her father’s arms, asked why the bus was stopping and going. He responded that it was pkock (traffic). The word PKOCK in hebrew has several meanings, traffic, cork, and bottle cap. A little while later Leah asked her father, where the coca-cola was that this pkock was attached. So cute! Perhaps because of the holiday it took us three hours to return home. Typically it was a 30 minute trip. The children stubbornly went to bed, and we ate our dinner in the quiet. The next morning Aryeh and I would meet with Debbie and I would go home with her.