The Day I Fell In Love With Jerusalem

Some people call them happy accidents. I like to say that the dice are rolling.

Let me first say that I am in RA purgatory. For my international readers, in college I was employed in the dormitories as a “Resident Assistant,” which at my University meant that my cohorts and I were expected to be Counselor, Police Officer, Father Confessor, Parent, Court Jester, and Ah—yes—babysitter. So I must have been a rotten RA, or at least built some really nasty Karma, as the dorm experience here has gone from bad to intolerable, and I apparently don’t have a whole lot of choices in the matter.

Well, last night I had my “encounter” with the, uh, gentlemen and their lady friends from my dorm: the first at midnight when a group of them decided to bring a hookah out into the common area and fill my room up with clouds of reek, the second at 4:14 am when they returned from wherever to continue the fun, including opening up all their doors and blasting their music at 5 pm levels. Although I understood that the act would be, with this crowd, a pariah creating act, I nonetheless thought that I would give it one try to see if talking with them would illicit sanity. Hah!

So after a total of somewhere between 2 and 3 hours of sleep, I tried to go to class, made it about a half hour until I felt myself beginning to snore (ask Sandra – this is NOT a good thing) and then promptly returned to my room during the only silence that exists – when “they” are all at class. When I woke up around 1 or 2, I knew I needed to just get away from the dorms, and so at last I did what I always do in new cities, and should have done much earlier here: I got myself deliberately lost. Disclaimer: This is not for the faint of heart.

Here’s how you do it: Hop on some form of public transportation—any form will really do. Since this is Jerusalem, that means a bus. Note that this works best when you grab any bus and not a specific bus, however, as the buses in Jerusalem might be letting you out in Haifa or Eliyat, I did cheat and read that the bus I took was one of the “through Jerusalem only” sort. Next, hop off the bus when you know you are more than walking distance from your starting destination—I like a good 30 minute ride on a city bus, myself. Important: Have an exit strategy. I had practiced “Bavakasha, sa l’Universita Ivrit b’Har Tsofit” (please take me exactly where I need to go) for a quick cab ride home before I left. A city is a city and a dicey neighborhood is a dicey neighborhood no matter where you are. Finally, sniff the air and watch the people and listen to the pulse of magnificent life around you.

It really doesn’t matter where I went. For the record’s sake, I walked through most of the immediate new city from the Great Synagogue down through Yemin Moshe, (the first new city neighborhood – the one with the famous windmill) up through most of the New City pedestrian shopping district, through the Shuk (market) on Rachov Agrippas, and finally ended up at the Knesset – for a grand total of about 6 hours of walking. And I fell in love.

Most of the culture shock of the first several weeks here was honestly just being so far from the real city. Mount Scopus is beautiful and important and holds so much of interest, but it is only the smallest part of the magnificence I felt. I haggled with clerks over a matter of shekels, I ate falafel that was being mixed and deep fried in front of me, I sampled the unbelievable organic fruit from Israeli farms, I listened to the hum of Hebrew and Arabic and English and Yiddish and Russian and French around every corner, I drank a shot of Sabra for health and I listened to a shop keeper blow a shofar to advertise that his were indeed the best. I greeted a thousand Israelis with “Shalom Shalom” and was offered water by a concerned shop keeper who saw me sweating too much. (“First you must bless,” he said, handing me the water. “Shehekol Niyeh Bidvaro.” I recited the prayer and was rewarded with a hearty “Amen,” and joyous grin, a vigorous handshake, and a Jersey from the local football team for 27 shekel.) Finally, I was able to talk with my wife on the phone from the middle of the shuk, and tell her with joy and honesty that we would have a good year hear together when we came back to live during my third year of rabbinical studies.

B’Shalom,

Paul