Lisa in our kitchen
Jerusalem from St. Andrews
my weekly shuk trip
29.6.05
What is the problem?
There seems to be a rash of animal encounters in our little circle these days- I wonder what the connection is, or the spiritual significance. Any suggestions?
This morning I woke up earlier than I wanted to after late night #4 (at least). I woke up because somebody was thumping around out in the living room and I couldn't figure out why. I lay in my bed listening in a passive and fuzzy irritation. The noise settled into a rhythmic set of thumps and then stopped. I got up and opened the door.
Coming down the hall toward me was Yum-yum, Warrior Princess, dragging a limp and very dead pigeon. I must have been really fuzzy-brained because she was several feet away and dragging an bird as big as herself, but she still managed to get into our room before I thought about closing the door. She dragged it under Lisa's bed for safekeeping.
I turned around and said something highly intelligent to poor Lisa, still mostly asleep. "Umm, Yum-yum just dragged a dead pigeon under your bed." That woke her up.
I started to wake up a bit more myself as I get dressed.
Why is Yum-yum in our apartment?
Did she kill it inside the house?
Is this some sort of sick practical joke on the part of my dear next-door neighbor?
I am going to personally KILL that beast myself!
I HATE FERRETS.
By the time I had gathered myself together Yum-yum had dragged her prey even farther under the bed, leaving a trail of blood. I gingerly pulled it out with one hand, holding it by the wing, grabbed Yum-yum with the other and headed for the door.
I must have been an interesting sight on my neighbor's doorstep- bleary-eyed and in a nasty mood, with a dead pigeon in one hand and a ferret in the other. When Mrs. Pfann opened the door there was that second of shocked silence before she could think of something to say.
Mr. Pfann had come over earlier to get something from the office, and Yum-yum had followed him. But she had certainly not had a pigeon then. Where does one come up with a live pigeon in a house completely closed up for the night?
Well, we disposed of the thing and I went home. Avcouple hours later when people really started waking up the crime investigation began. Mr. Pfann was of course vastly amused and proud of his pet. He and Steve (not a Pfann. This one is a guest of the Pfanns and a forensic scientist) walked up and down the hall looking for blood spots, feathers, open windows, or anything that might shed light on the mystery. Finally the story was pieced together:
We were gone all day yesterday, but an upstairs window must have been open enough to let a pigeon in. They do live in the eaves of the house. It came down the stairs (evidenced by droppings) and took refuge underneath a wicker bookcase in the living room. It stayed there all night (lots of droppings). In comes Yum-yum this morning and the poor bird had not a chance. The thumping noise I had heard was Yum-yum finishing it off underneath the bookcase (lots of blood).
At this point I felt yucky and sat down. Braver souls and tougher stomachs took over to clean up the crime scene with bleach and plastic gloves.
But bloodlust has taken hold. Mr. Pfann and Steve (forensic guy) were discussing the possibily of arranging the next killing so that Steve could film it. Maybe leave the window open on purpose?
Over my dead body.
Or at least not before I leave.
This morning I woke up earlier than I wanted to after late night #4 (at least). I woke up because somebody was thumping around out in the living room and I couldn't figure out why. I lay in my bed listening in a passive and fuzzy irritation. The noise settled into a rhythmic set of thumps and then stopped. I got up and opened the door.
Coming down the hall toward me was Yum-yum, Warrior Princess, dragging a limp and very dead pigeon. I must have been really fuzzy-brained because she was several feet away and dragging an bird as big as herself, but she still managed to get into our room before I thought about closing the door. She dragged it under Lisa's bed for safekeeping.
I turned around and said something highly intelligent to poor Lisa, still mostly asleep. "Umm, Yum-yum just dragged a dead pigeon under your bed." That woke her up.
I started to wake up a bit more myself as I get dressed.
Why is Yum-yum in our apartment?
Did she kill it inside the house?
Is this some sort of sick practical joke on the part of my dear next-door neighbor?
I am going to personally KILL that beast myself!
I HATE FERRETS.
By the time I had gathered myself together Yum-yum had dragged her prey even farther under the bed, leaving a trail of blood. I gingerly pulled it out with one hand, holding it by the wing, grabbed Yum-yum with the other and headed for the door.
I must have been an interesting sight on my neighbor's doorstep- bleary-eyed and in a nasty mood, with a dead pigeon in one hand and a ferret in the other. When Mrs. Pfann opened the door there was that second of shocked silence before she could think of something to say.
Mr. Pfann had come over earlier to get something from the office, and Yum-yum had followed him. But she had certainly not had a pigeon then. Where does one come up with a live pigeon in a house completely closed up for the night?
Well, we disposed of the thing and I went home. Avcouple hours later when people really started waking up the crime investigation began. Mr. Pfann was of course vastly amused and proud of his pet. He and Steve (not a Pfann. This one is a guest of the Pfanns and a forensic scientist) walked up and down the hall looking for blood spots, feathers, open windows, or anything that might shed light on the mystery. Finally the story was pieced together:
We were gone all day yesterday, but an upstairs window must have been open enough to let a pigeon in. They do live in the eaves of the house. It came down the stairs (evidenced by droppings) and took refuge underneath a wicker bookcase in the living room. It stayed there all night (lots of droppings). In comes Yum-yum this morning and the poor bird had not a chance. The thumping noise I had heard was Yum-yum finishing it off underneath the bookcase (lots of blood).
At this point I felt yucky and sat down. Braver souls and tougher stomachs took over to clean up the crime scene with bleach and plastic gloves.
But bloodlust has taken hold. Mr. Pfann and Steve (forensic guy) were discussing the possibily of arranging the next killing so that Steve could film it. Maybe leave the window open on purpose?
Over my dead body.
Or at least not before I leave.
photo caption
Weeeeeeee!! Yay for blogspot's new picture-thingy! Now people like me can post pictures in seconds rather than hours! Okay- here's the caption:
Lisa, Sarah, and I on the north wall of the Old City. I think it is west of Damascus Gate, but I'm not sure how much. Sarah was one of the guests staying at our house.
Lisa, Sarah, and I on the north wall of the Old City. I think it is west of Damascus Gate, but I'm not sure how much. Sarah was one of the guests staying at our house.
23.6.05
the last word in names
Okay, today I was looking up Gaelic names and stumbled on a partial answer to something that has always intrigued me- the origin of last names. Last names all have meanings I am told, and many of them are obvious.
Baker,
Tailor,
Adams,
Anderson
are all easy and rather boring. Some are less obvious and thus much more interesting: Pass (ask Brad),
and Pfann are two good examples.
Pfann actually means 'pan' in German. 'Back then' Jewish people in Germany bought names to fit into the culture. If you were rich you got nice names like Goldberg and Sliverbaum. If you were poor, well, you got stuck with Pfann.
But some last names defy explaination.
Shufflebottom.
Demme.
Levarko.
Buttling (thanks Craig, that was extremely funny).
Gilchrist.
That's were a little internet research comes in handy!
You know the those names that have 'gil'in them? Gilchrist, and Gillian are the two that I am familiar with, but I found a number of similar ones-
Gillanders,
Gillbride,
Gillies.
'Gil' means 'servant' or 'follower'.
Thus Gilchrist means 'servant of Christ',
Gillian or Gillean means 'follower of St. John',
Gillanders means 'servant of St. Andrew',
Gillbride means follower of St. Brigid (whoever she was),
and Gillies means 'servant of Jesus'.
(These are actually all newer version of old Gaelic names with completely unintelligable spellings.)
Isn't that cool?
I also discovered that Macbeth come from the earlier spelling Machbeatha and means 'son of life'. Nice.
Baker,
Tailor,
Adams,
Anderson
are all easy and rather boring. Some are less obvious and thus much more interesting: Pass (ask Brad),
and Pfann are two good examples.
Pfann actually means 'pan' in German. 'Back then' Jewish people in Germany bought names to fit into the culture. If you were rich you got nice names like Goldberg and Sliverbaum. If you were poor, well, you got stuck with Pfann.
But some last names defy explaination.
Shufflebottom.
Demme.
Levarko.
Buttling (thanks Craig, that was extremely funny).
Gilchrist.
That's were a little internet research comes in handy!
You know the those names that have 'gil'in them? Gilchrist, and Gillian are the two that I am familiar with, but I found a number of similar ones-
Gillanders,
Gillbride,
Gillies.
'Gil' means 'servant' or 'follower'.
Thus Gilchrist means 'servant of Christ',
Gillian or Gillean means 'follower of St. John',
Gillanders means 'servant of St. Andrew',
Gillbride means follower of St. Brigid (whoever she was),
and Gillies means 'servant of Jesus'.
(These are actually all newer version of old Gaelic names with completely unintelligable spellings.)
Isn't that cool?
I also discovered that Macbeth come from the earlier spelling Machbeatha and means 'son of life'. Nice.
18.6.05
The Joy of Mindy
No, pink isn't really 'me', but I was getting tired of black.
So this morning I was looking up the word for joy on e-sword and I discovered an interesting thing: most of the Hebrew words related to joy derive from actions. That means that the root words for things like joy, rejoice, exult, and be glad all come from these action words- 'to be bright', 'to shine', 'to spring', 'to leap', 'shouting', and 'to go in a circle'. I love that last one! It means 'to dance in a circle'. (evidence that they danced the hora back then?)
This all reminded me of an argument that Mindy and I had in Bible School. I was anticipating something exciting and happy in my life but she was't sure that I was really as excited as I said I was. After all, I wasn't acting excited. If you were truly excited and happy you would squeal and jump around and smile all the time, right? I rolled my eyes in disgust and firmly told her that you could be just as deeply excited and happy inside and not show it on the outside.
She was not convinced.
Of course I was right, right?
Nobody won the argument, of course.
But somehow when I think of Mindy in heaven, all those active words come to mind to describe her unspeakable joy- Mindy shines with joy, she bounces through heaven for joy with shouts of praise, with joyful laughter Mindy dances before her King...
Few people in my life have given me a greater example of what it meant to be joyful in life and I can only imagine her joy now.
I can't argue with her now and I don't want to; I just hope and trust that God will give me the kind of joy that causes me to sing, to dance, to shout uninhibited praise to my King.
So this morning I was looking up the word for joy on e-sword and I discovered an interesting thing: most of the Hebrew words related to joy derive from actions. That means that the root words for things like joy, rejoice, exult, and be glad all come from these action words- 'to be bright', 'to shine', 'to spring', 'to leap', 'shouting', and 'to go in a circle'. I love that last one! It means 'to dance in a circle'. (evidence that they danced the hora back then?)
This all reminded me of an argument that Mindy and I had in Bible School. I was anticipating something exciting and happy in my life but she was't sure that I was really as excited as I said I was. After all, I wasn't acting excited. If you were truly excited and happy you would squeal and jump around and smile all the time, right? I rolled my eyes in disgust and firmly told her that you could be just as deeply excited and happy inside and not show it on the outside.
She was not convinced.
Of course I was right, right?
Nobody won the argument, of course.
But somehow when I think of Mindy in heaven, all those active words come to mind to describe her unspeakable joy- Mindy shines with joy, she bounces through heaven for joy with shouts of praise, with joyful laughter Mindy dances before her King...
Few people in my life have given me a greater example of what it meant to be joyful in life and I can only imagine her joy now.
I can't argue with her now and I don't want to; I just hope and trust that God will give me the kind of joy that causes me to sing, to dance, to shout uninhibited praise to my King.
17.6.05
16.6.05
To Susie-Mum
Susie-Mum you'd be so proud of me! I got one suitcase out of storage yesterday and filled it halfway up. And I still have 17 days to go. I get more like you every day! Though I doubt I'll ever be as beautiful.
For everybody else reading this, just so you know, I have to most wonderful Mother in the world. She is short and has beautiful black hair and a lovely smile. She has done an incredible job at raising 8 children as well as being a pastor's wife for 14 years.
She has faith that moves mountains, and believes that God can provide all our needs just like He said.
She is flexible.
She is willing to uproot her life every few years to go wherever the Spirit and her husband lead.
She can pack a whole house with more strategy than a general, and muster the troops with more effective motivation than Robert E. Lee.
She can cram everything pertaining to the life and godliness of ten people into the back of our van and make it look like a work of art.
She can laugh.
She does laugh often.
She can cook a mean potato soup and her bread is out of this world.
She has Kingdom vision and is willing to follow it.
Even if it means moving her whole tribe overseas for six months and maintaining them in a new culture, language, and environment- with aplomb.
She plays the piano very well. I would much rather listen to her play than whatever-his-name-is (Andrea what IS his name?).
Do you know how much laundry 10 people generate?
There are actually days of the week when the laundry room is empty and silent.
She loves candles on Friday night, joyful music when life is hard, good books, sleepovers, and the joy when a loved one responds to God.
Her dreams are huge: "The World for King Jesus it Surely Shall Be!"
She is superwoman.
For everybody else reading this, just so you know, I have to most wonderful Mother in the world. She is short and has beautiful black hair and a lovely smile. She has done an incredible job at raising 8 children as well as being a pastor's wife for 14 years.
She has faith that moves mountains, and believes that God can provide all our needs just like He said.
She is flexible.
She is willing to uproot her life every few years to go wherever the Spirit and her husband lead.
She can pack a whole house with more strategy than a general, and muster the troops with more effective motivation than Robert E. Lee.
She can cram everything pertaining to the life and godliness of ten people into the back of our van and make it look like a work of art.
She can laugh.
She does laugh often.
She can cook a mean potato soup and her bread is out of this world.
She has Kingdom vision and is willing to follow it.
Even if it means moving her whole tribe overseas for six months and maintaining them in a new culture, language, and environment- with aplomb.
She plays the piano very well. I would much rather listen to her play than whatever-his-name-is (Andrea what IS his name?).
Do you know how much laundry 10 people generate?
There are actually days of the week when the laundry room is empty and silent.
She loves candles on Friday night, joyful music when life is hard, good books, sleepovers, and the joy when a loved one responds to God.
Her dreams are huge: "The World for King Jesus it Surely Shall Be!"
She is superwoman.
14.6.05
13.6.05
Joel 2:28 and following
Dear Friends who pray,
Today is Shavuot (Feast of Weeks, 'May Feast', Pentecost). Many of the Jewish people have stayed up all night studying the Law, and this morning walked down to the Western Wall to pray. They are celebrating the giving of the Law. I love the juxtaposition of their celebration with ours: the giving of the law and the coming of the one who causes us to keep the law. It is the anniversary of condemnation (we wouldn't be sinners if there wasn't a law to keep) and then the anniversary of God coming into us to HELP us keep it. What a joyful thought! Wonderful Comforter inside us.
So please pray for them. I am thinking Joel-2:28-and-following sort of thoughts today.
We are going to visit the people who brought our hard drive over, and then we may go to a picnic with Messianic friends. But sometime in there we have to make dinner...timing should be interesting.
[If you were wondering why we are celebrating the feast now, remember that the Jewish calendar is a lunar one. They correct the calendar every so often by throwing in a whole extra month. As Lisa said, this is like letting your car drift way to far, and then wildly over-correcting.]
Today is Shavuot (Feast of Weeks, 'May Feast', Pentecost). Many of the Jewish people have stayed up all night studying the Law, and this morning walked down to the Western Wall to pray. They are celebrating the giving of the Law. I love the juxtaposition of their celebration with ours: the giving of the law and the coming of the one who causes us to keep the law. It is the anniversary of condemnation (we wouldn't be sinners if there wasn't a law to keep) and then the anniversary of God coming into us to HELP us keep it. What a joyful thought! Wonderful Comforter inside us.
So please pray for them. I am thinking Joel-2:28-and-following sort of thoughts today.
We are going to visit the people who brought our hard drive over, and then we may go to a picnic with Messianic friends. But sometime in there we have to make dinner...timing should be interesting.
[If you were wondering why we are celebrating the feast now, remember that the Jewish calendar is a lunar one. They correct the calendar every so often by throwing in a whole extra month. As Lisa said, this is like letting your car drift way to far, and then wildly over-correcting.]
11.6.05
Too much grossness for one day
The light was out, the window open to let in the night breezes, and peace had settled over the house. Then I heard a buzz and a small thwacking sound as some lowlife from the dark came through the open window. Lisa kindly turned on the light so I could see what it was- I'd rather escort it back out than have it bumping into things (and me) all night. I thought it might be a moth. I like moths.
It wasn't a moth. It was the biggest, shiniest, more horrendous cockroach I had ever seen. His antennae were longer than his rust-red body which was over two inches long (I am guessing- I didn't feel like measuring him at the time), when he moved it was with the quickness of lightning, and he was on the suitcase at the foot of my bed.
I shrieked. Every primeval female instinct revolted against his very existence. I hated him instantly. So did Lisa apparently; she also screamed.
After that we all sort of stood around testing each others defenses. I think he probably had the upper hand psychologically, and he was certainly faster than we- but then, he didn't have God on his side. Besides, we were fighting for Our Very Lives. It was him or us. "They really are part of the curse, aren't they?" says Lisa in a respectful voice. "Of course, that's why I said they were from hell!" (we won't mention the name of the person who said that)
Really now, can you imagine saying, "Oh well, we can co-exist peacefully. We'll go to sleep and let him wave his antennae in peace." The only good cockroach is a dead cockroach in my opinion.
So anyway, after we had stood around sizing each other up, we started discussing possibilities. We could scoop him up in some container and throw him out the window (the second story window and may he fall hard). We could squish him. With what? Well, there is Lisa's sneaker. Okay, but who is going to do the squishing? I was all for him being permanently dead, but really one of the most psycologically horrible things about big bugs is the sound they make when you squish them. Its all you, Lisa.
Meantime he decided to make a move- he darted forward under the handle of the suitcase. We shrieked again. How fast and horrible he was!
At this point I was standing on my bed and Lisa was crouched on her's contemplating retrieving her sneaker. It was too close to the suitcase for comfort. But brave Lisa picked it up, tested its weight, and with various howls and shrieks of disgust started to swing at him. But sadly, you can't swing with your eyes closed- and just looking at him was too much. She stopped mid-swing and retreated to find a bigger shoe. That would be mine. This time she really swung! and missed! and there he was waving at us from inside Lisa's backpack on the floor! We screamed again, and Lisa swung again. He disappeared. I put my shoes on and stood on my bed waiting for him to appear again. He didn't, so we carefully picked up the things on the floor one by one, moved the bed a bit. He wasn't around. Definitely not good. If we don't find him, I say to Lisa, I am moving out.
I kicked at a stack of papers on the floor, and suddenly he was there, as big as an elephant and twice as ugly!
But sadly (for him), though he may be able to manipulate our emotions, he can't really change the fact that he is really only two inches long and I have huge feet. I can scream and stomp at the same time.
Wads of toilet paper make a nice shroud, my shoes rest in a place of honor not unlike King David's sword, and peace and darkness descend once more.
But not before I close the window.
It wasn't a moth. It was the biggest, shiniest, more horrendous cockroach I had ever seen. His antennae were longer than his rust-red body which was over two inches long (I am guessing- I didn't feel like measuring him at the time), when he moved it was with the quickness of lightning, and he was on the suitcase at the foot of my bed.
I shrieked. Every primeval female instinct revolted against his very existence. I hated him instantly. So did Lisa apparently; she also screamed.
After that we all sort of stood around testing each others defenses. I think he probably had the upper hand psychologically, and he was certainly faster than we- but then, he didn't have God on his side. Besides, we were fighting for Our Very Lives. It was him or us. "They really are part of the curse, aren't they?" says Lisa in a respectful voice. "Of course, that's why I said they were from hell!" (we won't mention the name of the person who said that)
Really now, can you imagine saying, "Oh well, we can co-exist peacefully. We'll go to sleep and let him wave his antennae in peace." The only good cockroach is a dead cockroach in my opinion.
So anyway, after we had stood around sizing each other up, we started discussing possibilities. We could scoop him up in some container and throw him out the window (the second story window and may he fall hard). We could squish him. With what? Well, there is Lisa's sneaker. Okay, but who is going to do the squishing? I was all for him being permanently dead, but really one of the most psycologically horrible things about big bugs is the sound they make when you squish them. Its all you, Lisa.
Meantime he decided to make a move- he darted forward under the handle of the suitcase. We shrieked again. How fast and horrible he was!
At this point I was standing on my bed and Lisa was crouched on her's contemplating retrieving her sneaker. It was too close to the suitcase for comfort. But brave Lisa picked it up, tested its weight, and with various howls and shrieks of disgust started to swing at him. But sadly, you can't swing with your eyes closed- and just looking at him was too much. She stopped mid-swing and retreated to find a bigger shoe. That would be mine. This time she really swung! and missed! and there he was waving at us from inside Lisa's backpack on the floor! We screamed again, and Lisa swung again. He disappeared. I put my shoes on and stood on my bed waiting for him to appear again. He didn't, so we carefully picked up the things on the floor one by one, moved the bed a bit. He wasn't around. Definitely not good. If we don't find him, I say to Lisa, I am moving out.
I kicked at a stack of papers on the floor, and suddenly he was there, as big as an elephant and twice as ugly!
But sadly (for him), though he may be able to manipulate our emotions, he can't really change the fact that he is really only two inches long and I have huge feet. I can scream and stomp at the same time.
Wads of toilet paper make a nice shroud, my shoes rest in a place of honor not unlike King David's sword, and peace and darkness descend once more.
But not before I close the window.
9.6.05
Extereeeeeemly happy girls!
Praise the Lord, the hard drive is in the computer (thanks to a friend who volunteered to put it in and reformat the computer), and we are now online in the compfort of our own little house!
Also- home in less than a month!
Also- taught my last English class last night!
(is this sufficiently short, Derrick?)
Also- home in less than a month!
Also- taught my last English class last night!
(is this sufficiently short, Derrick?)
6.6.05
a Sunday in the life of me
Dear Friends,
I am still around, though picture me plastered to the front of a fast-moving train with my hair streaming back in the wind... life moves a bit too fast at times.
Yesterday is a good example.
In the morning I went to a lecture at the Albright Institute in east Jerusalem. That meant leaving the house at 8:45. Because I hadn't gone to bed exactly early the night before this wasn't that long after rising time. Caught the bus down to route one near the Mea She'rim entrance (for those of you who remember), but went down a side road on the Arab side. Found the the Institute after asking a very English- looking lady with a lovely accent.
Got there early and sat through another lecture (only half hour) before the one I was intereted in came up. It was all about old photos of Israel from around the turn of the century. When it was done around 11:15 I crossed back over to the Jewish side of the highway, stopped at a second-hand book store and bought three books. Then I ate lunch- soda and some horrible pastry that seemed to be three quarters grease and one quarter cheese with a bit of pastry to stick it together. People over here don't seem to eat in public much, so I got odd looks as I sat on a low wall by the side so the road, swinging my legs and muching away. But now I am impervious to odd looks and only smile happily back at them.
On to the shuk for groceries! Due to a fit of vanity I hadn't brought my backpack along- who wants to show up at an institute of higher learning for a highbrow lecture carrying something so plebian? As a resut I have to lug tomatoes, apricots, plums, raisins, cucumbers, walnuts, cheese, and carrots down to the bus stop by hand. My fingers get funny ridges in them and are an odd color.
Home again! 1:30ish? can't remember. Eat something, gather myself together, and call the Nesher sherut system- I have to go down to Tel Aviv this evening to get our laptop hard drive from someone coming from the States. The Sherut guy says he'll pick me up at 3:30. I spend the time reading out loud to Lisa while she cooks and generally being slothful.
3:25 I am sitting outside our house on a low wall, reading my book while I wait. The Sherut comes and we proceed on a torturous path around areas of Jerusalem that I have never seen before picking up othe people headed for the airport. At one house we sit for five minutes while the driver periodically calls the tardy passengers on his cell phone and honks his horn at regular intervals.
On our way again and we passed a normal width suburbian road with a row of large eucalyptus trees growing right out of the middle of the pavement. The scenery passes to the accompanying melody of my neighbor's very loud gum.
At the airport I find a spot to watch incoming traffic. I have never seen the people who are bringing my hard drive, they have never seen me. We e-mailed each other vague identifying characteristics. I know when they flight comes in, but I don't know from where, what the number is, or what the name of their tour group is. I think they sent my that info, but I left it at home. I call home, but Lisa has already left for her Hebrew exam.
An after arriving at the airport two people matching description come out with a huge group that must be their tour. Sure enough! We greet each other, she passes over the hard drive, and we arrange a meeting for next week in Jerusalem, all in two minutes.
They head out for Samaria and I leave by another entrance to find a sherut to Jerusalem. It is almost full- the only options are two seats in the very back- one next to a secular lady, but she has her bag on it. The other is next to a religious young man of about 20. I decide on half of each seat so as not to disturb the bag of one or the religious sensibilities of the other. But the driver wants to wait for one more person to complete his bus load. At this point I should have been praying for a skinny passenger because the four seats in the back were made for four of my younger siblings, not four adults. I didn't pray, and we were blessed with one huge European man. I saw him coming down the aisle and a moral crisis was met and passed in a second- do I make him climb over me and sqeeze into the seat next to the religious young man, or do I move over so he can stretch his legs out in the aisle? I move over. What followed I found highly amusing, but it might have just been defense mechanism on my part; I don't think anybody else was amused. This was the proverbial rock and a hard place. I sat with my shoulders hunched forward the whole way, except when I leaned forward with my elbows on the seat back in front of me to relieve the pressure.
There we sat, or existed, the young religious fellow on one side listening to a tape on headphones and occationally glancing at me- probably because I was grinning like an idiot (it was that or cry)- and the big guy on the other side hunched up in miserable silence. But God was good- the first passenger off the bus was the secular lady on the other side of the big guy. She climbed out and the rest of us practically burst out sideways, with a sigh of relief.
I got dropped off near the Old City- it is the evening before Jerusalem day I wanted to see the festivities while I waited for Lisa to get out of her Hebrew class. I bought a candy bar and some nuts for dinner (cough, cough) and sat on Ben Yehuda reading a book and people-watching and feeling lonely. But friends of mine passed by- Daniel and Michelle Ramsey- and invited me to dinner with them. They were just coming from church, but it took some discussion to convince me that it was actually Sunday. I tend to loose track of days especially since the system over here is a bit different than at home. Sunday is the first day of the week, and a work day. We go to church on Saturdays.
Swarma (Middle Eastern food) is certainly more filling than a Snickers, though probably not a lot more healthy. Other friends passed by and stopped to chat as we ate, and I ceased to feel lonely.
Caught a bus to the Old City around 9:00, found Lisa on her way to the Western Wall. We stayed there only a little while- apparently the real festivities begin tomorrow. We did watch a folk sing-a-long in the sunken section of the Cardo near Hurva Square. The words were all on a big screen, but Lisa couldn't read them (blind as a bat). So I read what I could out loud to her, and even recognized one song from Ulpan.
Left around 10:00, walked back to the New City to catch a bus, and home by 11:15 or so.
There you have it.
Today I have Hebrew class, Tuesday and Wednesday I teach classes, Thursday is my last Hebrew class and exam.... I might slow down a bit after that. Lisa never seems to be rushed, but she has close to the same load as I do- but her exam is over and her teaching doesn't come til next week.
I am still around, though picture me plastered to the front of a fast-moving train with my hair streaming back in the wind... life moves a bit too fast at times.
Yesterday is a good example.
In the morning I went to a lecture at the Albright Institute in east Jerusalem. That meant leaving the house at 8:45. Because I hadn't gone to bed exactly early the night before this wasn't that long after rising time. Caught the bus down to route one near the Mea She'rim entrance (for those of you who remember), but went down a side road on the Arab side. Found the the Institute after asking a very English- looking lady with a lovely accent.
Got there early and sat through another lecture (only half hour) before the one I was intereted in came up. It was all about old photos of Israel from around the turn of the century. When it was done around 11:15 I crossed back over to the Jewish side of the highway, stopped at a second-hand book store and bought three books. Then I ate lunch- soda and some horrible pastry that seemed to be three quarters grease and one quarter cheese with a bit of pastry to stick it together. People over here don't seem to eat in public much, so I got odd looks as I sat on a low wall by the side so the road, swinging my legs and muching away. But now I am impervious to odd looks and only smile happily back at them.
On to the shuk for groceries! Due to a fit of vanity I hadn't brought my backpack along- who wants to show up at an institute of higher learning for a highbrow lecture carrying something so plebian? As a resut I have to lug tomatoes, apricots, plums, raisins, cucumbers, walnuts, cheese, and carrots down to the bus stop by hand. My fingers get funny ridges in them and are an odd color.
Home again! 1:30ish? can't remember. Eat something, gather myself together, and call the Nesher sherut system- I have to go down to Tel Aviv this evening to get our laptop hard drive from someone coming from the States. The Sherut guy says he'll pick me up at 3:30. I spend the time reading out loud to Lisa while she cooks and generally being slothful.
3:25 I am sitting outside our house on a low wall, reading my book while I wait. The Sherut comes and we proceed on a torturous path around areas of Jerusalem that I have never seen before picking up othe people headed for the airport. At one house we sit for five minutes while the driver periodically calls the tardy passengers on his cell phone and honks his horn at regular intervals.
On our way again and we passed a normal width suburbian road with a row of large eucalyptus trees growing right out of the middle of the pavement. The scenery passes to the accompanying melody of my neighbor's very loud gum.
At the airport I find a spot to watch incoming traffic. I have never seen the people who are bringing my hard drive, they have never seen me. We e-mailed each other vague identifying characteristics. I know when they flight comes in, but I don't know from where, what the number is, or what the name of their tour group is. I think they sent my that info, but I left it at home. I call home, but Lisa has already left for her Hebrew exam.
An after arriving at the airport two people matching description come out with a huge group that must be their tour. Sure enough! We greet each other, she passes over the hard drive, and we arrange a meeting for next week in Jerusalem, all in two minutes.
They head out for Samaria and I leave by another entrance to find a sherut to Jerusalem. It is almost full- the only options are two seats in the very back- one next to a secular lady, but she has her bag on it. The other is next to a religious young man of about 20. I decide on half of each seat so as not to disturb the bag of one or the religious sensibilities of the other. But the driver wants to wait for one more person to complete his bus load. At this point I should have been praying for a skinny passenger because the four seats in the back were made for four of my younger siblings, not four adults. I didn't pray, and we were blessed with one huge European man. I saw him coming down the aisle and a moral crisis was met and passed in a second- do I make him climb over me and sqeeze into the seat next to the religious young man, or do I move over so he can stretch his legs out in the aisle? I move over. What followed I found highly amusing, but it might have just been defense mechanism on my part; I don't think anybody else was amused. This was the proverbial rock and a hard place. I sat with my shoulders hunched forward the whole way, except when I leaned forward with my elbows on the seat back in front of me to relieve the pressure.
There we sat, or existed, the young religious fellow on one side listening to a tape on headphones and occationally glancing at me- probably because I was grinning like an idiot (it was that or cry)- and the big guy on the other side hunched up in miserable silence. But God was good- the first passenger off the bus was the secular lady on the other side of the big guy. She climbed out and the rest of us practically burst out sideways, with a sigh of relief.
I got dropped off near the Old City- it is the evening before Jerusalem day I wanted to see the festivities while I waited for Lisa to get out of her Hebrew class. I bought a candy bar and some nuts for dinner (cough, cough) and sat on Ben Yehuda reading a book and people-watching and feeling lonely. But friends of mine passed by- Daniel and Michelle Ramsey- and invited me to dinner with them. They were just coming from church, but it took some discussion to convince me that it was actually Sunday. I tend to loose track of days especially since the system over here is a bit different than at home. Sunday is the first day of the week, and a work day. We go to church on Saturdays.
Swarma (Middle Eastern food) is certainly more filling than a Snickers, though probably not a lot more healthy. Other friends passed by and stopped to chat as we ate, and I ceased to feel lonely.
Caught a bus to the Old City around 9:00, found Lisa on her way to the Western Wall. We stayed there only a little while- apparently the real festivities begin tomorrow. We did watch a folk sing-a-long in the sunken section of the Cardo near Hurva Square. The words were all on a big screen, but Lisa couldn't read them (blind as a bat). So I read what I could out loud to her, and even recognized one song from Ulpan.
Left around 10:00, walked back to the New City to catch a bus, and home by 11:15 or so.
There you have it.
Today I have Hebrew class, Tuesday and Wednesday I teach classes, Thursday is my last Hebrew class and exam.... I might slow down a bit after that. Lisa never seems to be rushed, but she has close to the same load as I do- but her exam is over and her teaching doesn't come til next week.
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