Dateline Jerusalem — I definitely do not take after my mathematician father.
It is obvious that I cannot add, subtract, multiply or divide. Although I was a math major in high school and allegedly had an aptitude for math, according to the SAT exam, I am a moron when it comes to math achievement. Calculus in college was like a foreign language to me, and we all know that I cannot speak Hebrew after being in Israel 2 1/2 years.
So, when everyone asked about my new job, I told them I was earning about $150/month less than my last job. Problem is, I forgot to add the number “one” in the thousand column. The reduction in pay is $1150/month. But I have a job, and the scenery on the way to work is like being on vacation.
I take three buses to work, one bus and two trains home at night. As I write this, I am on a bus to work. No matter what time of year, there is a lush carpet of greenery sprouting up between boulders of stone along the highway. Since the beginning of the state of Israel, this desert land has been transformed into forests and farmland.
Technology has enabled farmers to plant exotic fruits, vegetables, flowers and trees. I remember once receiving a gift card from relatives that they donated money for a tree to be planted in Israel in my name. As I look at the miles of trees along the way, I wonder which of the taller ones is “my tree.”
As the bus travels, I pass monuments and sites with battered tanks and trucks memorializing those brave Israelis who fought and/or lost their lives in Israel's constant struggle for survival. Almost every park in every city has a statue or memorial wall to honor these national heroes. Although it saddens me, I also feel a strong sense of pride.
I am now climbing the mountain toward Jerusalem, which, to me, is the most beautiful city in the world. Every neighborhood is unique in architecture, ethnicity, religiosity and character. The commonality is the Jerusalem stone of the buildings, glistening white from a distance, vanilla and apricot in color up close.
I am now on my third bus this morning, stopping in various neighborhoods in Jerusalem. It is crowded as usual with male and female soldiers, university students, yeshiva and seminary students, shoppers, senior citizens, Israeli Arabs (not “Palestinians”) who live and work alongside Jews in Israel, tourists, and people like me on their way to work.
Religious men and women sit separately. The clothes of the female passengers range from jeans and low cut blouses for the average woman to the turtleneck tops and ankle length skirts, hats, scarves, snoods, and sheitels (wigs) covering the bodies and heads of religious women. Most men (religious and non-religious) are dressed in jeans, slacks, and “normal” male attire. However, some of the ultra-orthodox can be seen wearing long black robe-like suit jackets over black slacks while occasionally some men can be seen in knickers. Non-Jewish and secular Jewish men are bare-headed while religious Jews wear colorful knitted or black suede kipot (yarmulkes), black felt Hamburg-type hats, or fur trimmed “streimmels.”
Going in the Other Direction
My workday is over, and I am now enjoying the slow commuter train home, as it snakes around the mountain and forest.
During the day, the scenery is spectacular with the brooks and streams, greenery, rock formations, and what remains of ancient stone buildings. At night, it is pitch black outside the train windows, as though I were riding in an endless tunnel. Only as we approach an occasional city or town along the way are there lights in the distance.
This train is like a slow roller-coaster twisting and turning around the mountain. The doors between the cars are open so I am able to observe them swinging from side to side as the train slinks along its route. The view of the connecting cars ahead of mine, moving back and forth, makes me dizzy. I now switch to a fast double-decker train that travels from north to south within populated towns and cities with their bright lights illuminating the sky.
Well, having left the house at 6:30 a.m. and returning home a little after 10 p.m. makes for a long day.
L'hitraot. Shachar
Shachar is the Hebrew name of a California-based attorney and former Los Angeles County deputy sheriff who moved to Israel 2 ½ years ago.
