[img]96|left|||no_popup[/img]Dateline Jerusalem — The other day I decided to take the train home instead of the bus.
I bought the ticket from a machine with directions in Hebrew, Arabic, Russian and English, the four languages spoken in Israel. However, French is now catching up to the others due to the large number of French Jews leaving France because of the anti-Semitism there.
The train was small, only 6 cars in length, and only one level, but with comfortable seats and a table. The tracks twisted and turned through the mountainside. There was a narrow stream of no more than 5 feet in diameter that ran between the tracks and the lush green forest for much of the route.
The current in the stream seemed to flow faster than the speed of the train. Why this train traveled so slowly I cannot imagine, except for the fact that the twists and turns around the mountain were sharp and dangerous.
Back Home Again?
I felt like I was on a child's ride at Knott's Berry Farm or Disneyland as it followed the clear, rippling stream along the apricot- and vanilla-colored rocky mountainside. Amidst the gorgeous green vegetation I could see small abandoned ancient buildings comprised of Jerusalem stone and rubble with their open windows and often roofless ceilings.
As we approached the first stop, the view was obscured by smoke from a small fire adjacent to some of the other tracks at the train depot. The train conductors alit from my train to check out the problem. The delay was minimal, and we were on our way again.
This leg of the trip was relatively flat. We passed by corn and wheat fields, rows of grapevines and acres of fruit trees. Again there were more ancient abandoned stone buildings within yards of the bridge that we crossed over to circumvent the freeway below us.
It was ancient and modern meeting together in harmony.
So Many Contrasts Within Reach
All of a sudden the train stopped in the middle of prairie land. An occasional truck and tractor could be seen driving on a dirt road about a half-mile away. It seems another train was coming. We had to stop and share our track with it. When we started up again, the view was of a large cement manufacturing plant and a graveyard of old battered autos located just minutes from burgundy, magenta and white bougainvillea flowers that followed the tracks on my right and modern high-rise apartment buildings adjacent to tiny shack-like homes on my left.
Again, the contrast between old and new.
I disembarked from the train and waited approximately 25 minutes until my connecting train arrived to take me home. As I waited on a bench between the train platforms, my view was of pink flowered bushes and various sizes and species of palm trees and shade trees lining the platform. There were also warning signs that the train tracks were patrolled by guard dogs. Then I boarded a double-decker train. This train rolled along at a fast clip, and before I knew it I arrived at my destination.
Unfortunately, I do not live near the train station and the attendant there gave me incorrect directions on where to find the local bus to take me home. After walking over 3 miles looking for the particular bus stop in the heat and humidity of my city, I decided it made no sense to get a taxi at this point. I ended up walking the remaining mile home, exhausted and thirsty, but thoroughly pleased that I had made the train trip.
L'hitraot. Shachar
Shachar is the Hebrew name of a California-based attorney and former Los Angeles County deputy sheriff who moved to Israel two years ago.
