Dateline Jerusalem — I was a Girl Scout. Our motto was, Be Prepared.
The bus schedule from my home to Jerusalem has not changed in the last 2 1/2 years. I know it by heart.
However, the good Girl Scout in me always checked the Egged bus site, and, as always, here were no changes in times or routes. The only change in 2 1/2 years was the departure door for my bus at the Central Bus Station in Jerusalem.
When I checked the site the other day, the bus that leaves from my neighborhood to Jerusalem was leaving 15 minutes earlier than usual. This might not seem so bad since buses run about every 45 minutes to an hour at the Central Bus Station in my town.
But the bus only runs once in the morning from my particular neighborhood. If I hadn't checked the bus site on the internet, I probably would have missed the neighborhood bus, waited 30 minutes to realize that it wasn't coming, and then walked for 25 minutes to the Central Bus Station in town, hoping I hadn't missed the connection and have to wait another 45-60 minutes for the regular bus to take me to Jerusalem.
I would have been hours late for my job interview.
A Minor Setback
When I climbed onto the bus, the driver gave me change. Accidentally, I dropped the coins into his coffee cup. What could I say but “slichah,” “excuse me.” The poor man now had to travel an hour without anything to drink or keep him awake at such an early hour of the morning.
Then as I started to make my way towards the back of the bus, my briefcase, hanging from one arm and my purse hanging from the other, kept hitting passengers. Again, “slichah.” I am such a klutz. Luckily, the bus was not full. I was able to plop myself down in a cushioned royal blue velour seat with multi-colored squiggle designs while my briefcase and purse occupied the next seat.
I then put my feet up on the metal foot rest, hoping I would have an enjoyable, uneventful trip.
The route to Jerusalem is beautiful.
Although the road twists and turns as it skirts around acres of farmland, fruits and vegetables growing in neatly ordered rows, grapevines, orange groves and greenhouses, the bus driver handled it with ease. From my seat I observed the morning sun trying to break through the horizon, casting a majestic glow on the mountains ahead.
Forests of tall pine, fir and birch trees were growing in the lush green thick carpet of the forest floor. Some trees were even sprouting from the giant rocks and boulders along side the highway.
Not only are there the traditional trees of the forest, but on the route there are acres of palm tree varieties as well as fields of colorful flowers. Israel is known to supply most of the flowers sold in Europe.
Of course, along the way there are the occasional gravel pits and cement factories, and isolated ancient stone buildings with their glassless windows and crumbling facades. Road signs in the shape of giant arrows pointing to various destinations along they way, printed in Hebrew, English and Arabic, interrupted the breathtaking view.
Once in awhile there is a yellow warning sign, “Slow, dangerous curve.”
For the most part, the scenery on the way to Jerusalem is like that in a fine oil painting.
The best view of all was when we climbed the hills of Jerusalem.
There is an endless panorama of glistening white stone buildings surrounding the city.
The city is pristine white. And as we approached the Central Bus Station, the white Jerusalem stone seen from afar is really more of a peach and vanilla color up close.
Old and new buildings made of Jerusalem stone and flagstone sit next to colorful glass window-walled high rise apartment buildings.
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 1/2 years ago.
