[img]96|left|Shachar||no_popup[/img]Dateline Jerusalem — It is springtime in Israel.
I awaken to birds chirping and children playing in the park next to my apartment.
The weather is warm, not humid for a change, and there is a slight breeze. The sky is blue with billowing white clouds. The air is still and peaceful.
I cannot stroll anywhere in my town without seeing colorful flowers and trees in bloom, breathing in the perfume of the blossoms. It is heavenly.
I recognize the tropical palm trees, similar to those lining the streets of Beverly Hills.
But the other trees are unique. Some must be hundreds of years old as their trunks have diameters as wide as 5 to 6 feet with branches that tower over the roofs of apartment buildings, shading the sidewalks where I walk.
Every few feet are trees with lavender and lilac blossoms, with an occasional tree with magenta and burgundy colored blooms. Some have petals floating to the ground. The flowers and colorful vines gracing the front yards of houses and apartments along the way remind me of a box of crayons, every color imaginable. .
The main street of my town is lined with orange trees, the aroma emanating from them like that of freshly squeezed juice. In Israel, the markets sell green oranges. Although they may not look ripe, they taste delicious. Umbrellas and awnings shade the tables of coffee drinkers and outdoor diners enjoying the weather, scenery and delectable Israeli taste treats.
No Strangers Here
People-watching is a pastime of Israelis. It is not unusual for complete strangers to strike up conversations with one another.
Although I speak no Hebrew, I am finally beginning to understand a few words of greetings. In turn, I smile and in Hebrew say “Ani lo medeberet Ivrit, rak Anglit” (I do not speak Hebrew, only English) and “Ani lo mevina Ivrit” (I do not understand Hebrew).
The next thing people do is start speaking in Yiddish (I can understand a little) or Russian if they do not know English. However, since English is taught in schools, most young people speak the language.
But the Hebrew word “Shalom” means “hello, goodbye, and peace”, and is universally understood by all. This time of year, I cannot pass someone on the street who does not greet me with “Chag sameach” (Happy holiday).
My town is celebrating its 120th anniversary. It has grown to over 120,000 people. There are activities and events galore. The population is made up of Yemenites, Moroccans, Poles, Russians, Ethiopians, English, Australians, South Africans, Mexicans, Argentinians, Italians, Dutch, Scottish, French, Germans, Canadians, Americans, Israeli Arabs, and a sprinkling of people from almost everywhere in the world.
The majority, however, are native born Israelis, sabras. With all the various cultures and languages, this melting pot is just a microcosm of Israel itself, a haven for Jews from throughout the world to congregate in freedom and peace.
The beauty of Israel is just one of the gifts and miracles from Hashem (G-d). I am so blessed to be able to experience it.
As I touch the mezzuzas on the doorposts of every building, I am reminded that every one of my senses is stimulated by the sights, smells, tastes, sounds, and feel of Israel. If only I were an artist to be able to catch it on canvas and send to you.
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.
