Wednesday, July 1 MY BEST DAY IN ISRAEL EVER Jerusalem

This will be a long one.

Today was THE BEST day I have had in Israel...and I figure that's about 500 days.  I had NO idea it would even be a mediocre day but this was a great surprise.

We set a 6:30 am wake up to get to breakfast by 7 and get a taxi by 7:30 to get the girls to the first day of Camp Ramah at the Israel Goldstein Youth Village, the exact locale where Marci and I first stayed as high school students on the 1981 summer Ulpan trip.  (I was going to write that it was the first place Marci and I slept in Israel but that would be an overstatement, especially for a 16 year old!).  Who would have thought, then, that we'd be bringing our daughters back to the same place.

The girls were NONE too excited about camp.  While we scheduled it back in the day when I was going to participate in Wexner, we still figured it would be good for them to have some kid time, swimming, and maybe even meet a new friend or two.  

I pride myself these days on keeping taxi fares down.  We were double crossed (if that can happen in Israel).  Our taxi followed another one bringing another family to the camp.  When I went to negotiate the price, he told me I would be charged the price of the first cab's meter.  Of course, the first cab didn't put on the meter and the guy charged us 35 shekels for the ride. (The trip back, which I DID have on the meter, was 25 shekels).  

The camp director's last name is Ser and we believe she's a cousin of Marci's as there are few Ser's in Israel.

For the first day of camp, Rebecca went to a soup kitchen where she first prepared and then served food.  In fact, they stuck her and the other girls her age in a taxi caravan to the place.  They enjoyed the trip, as well as the fun they had when none of the drivers in the caravan could find the place (and when they tried to overcharge the counselor for the trip; giving the campers a first-hand view of a big-ol fight between the counselor and the driver.)  Once the counselor threatened to call the police, the driver backed off.

We were a bit concerned about whether Rebecca would like the camp.  There were only 3 other kids in her group and she's a bit anxious about new social situations.  Shayna, on the other hand, is a camper type.

So....when I went to pick them up....I saw Shayna first and I asked, "How was it?"  She said, "Rebecca loved it.  Me, not so much."  Rebecca reported that there were 3 other kids and they were all really nice.  Shayna reported there were 14 other kids and none of them were nice.  Rebecca was so excited about the soup kitchen and having time to talk with her new friends.  Shayna started negotiating the end of her camp experience.  Surprises like this are good for parents...and remind us not to categorize our kids!

My fabulous day really got going after I dropped off the girls.  I was committed to NOT paying $6 for each shirt to be laundered so I found the self-service laundry.  Turns out, for $12 they'll do a load of wash, dry, and fold for you....in 3 hours.  So, I returned to the hotel ($25 metered fare!), grabbed a bag full of laundry, walked up into town, and, by 9 am, had the laundry in.  Back to the hotel, on my own now for the first time in weeks, checking email, hearing the news (anyone know that Michael Jackson died?), and then off for a 10 am interview of Burt and Betty Edelstein for my next book on Jewish immigrants to Israel in the 1960s and 1970s.  I decided to take the public bus out there (concierge no help) and LOVED that I was successfully able to navigate my way to Emek Rafaim, then down a street, to an alley, to the apartment, etc.  I must admit to some self-consciousness to being on a public bus given all the terror a few years ago.  While life in Israel, thankfully, has returned to normal for years and years, I haven't had much of an opportunity to experience that....so I WAS thinking about terrorism on the trip over.

I was excited to meet the Edelson's as well because their son in law, an academic historian and author of several outstanding books (one in American Jewish history) was just named Israel's Ambassador to the US (Michael Oren).  While they were telling me their aliyah story, they mentioned (and ONLY THEN did I realize that I knew the story) that their daughter, two weeks into a year program in Israel, was one of the victims of the suicide bombers on the buses.  I felt an immediate connection between my ride over to their apartment and reality they brought me to with their story.  

So, I loved conducting the interview, being on sabbatical, writing a new book, traveling in Israel, conversing in Hebrew, achieving success in taxis, laundry, buses; it's all good.

After the interview, I was walking back down the street, only to hear an Israeli construction worker YELLING in his cel phone.  He was just YELLING and YELLING. I looked over at him and could only think, I LOVE ISRAEL.  This is way cool.  A few minutes later, I stopped at a felafel stand, sat down to eat, and this Israeli starts YELLING at the shop owner.  He kept on YELLING and YELLING.  All I could think was, I love Israel.   I headed back, by bus of course, to the hotel...no....not to the hotel....I got this idea...stay on the bus a little longer...ride up the hill to the laundry mat...see if my clothes are ready.  How spontaneous!  (I plan on that every day).  Sure enough, the clothes were ready early and I carried the clothes back down the hill to the hotel, proudly holding the huge bag up on my shoulder (as I carried bunches of bananas when I lived on kibbutz) right into the lobby of the David Citadel....just waiting for someone to ask how they, too, could get all their clothes laundered for just 47 shekels.  No one asked but I was happy anyway.

Another break in the hotel room to gather all our things together for this afternoon's journey to Tzfat, a 3.5 hour bus ride from the central station in Jerusalem to Tzfat, where the girls and I will stay for the night before attending the bar mitzvah of Tal Cohen, one of Rebecca's classmates and a boy (now man) whose family has generations-long ties to Tzfat, where Kabbalah and the celebration of shabbat were developed.  

I went for the cab and the guy had the nerve to tell me it would be 50 shekels.  I told him the meter was 25 shekels.  He said it's rush hour.  I said it's 1 pm.  He said there's lots of traffic.  I said there's always lots of traffic in Jerusalem.  He said 35 shekels.  I said 30.  He said, "Let's not disagree over 5 shekels" and he took 30 shekels for the fare.  I love Israel.

I picked up the girls at the pool where Shayna gave the report I mentioned above.  We hopped in another cab to the central bus station (30 shekels and that was a fair fare).  They needed lunch so I plopped them down at a table with our suitcase while I shuttled the food over.  There was a soldier with an Uzi automatic weapon seated at the table so I told Rebecca not to be concerned about her safety!  We purchased our tickets and I was good dad, ensuring 1) that the girls went to the bathroom before boarding the bus 2) that they were fed lunch 3) that I had snacks for the ride.  I feeling just a little bit like Marci.

Even at this point, it was already my best day ever; getting the facility and ease of navigating the culture.

Wait....Rabbi sighting....Rabbi Elliott Tepperman on Yafo Rd. last night.

Rabbi sighting...Rabbi Chaim Seidler Feller eating dinner along Yafo Rd.  (I actually did go in the restaurant to say hi).

The bus to Tzfat actually departs from the street in front of the Jerusalem convenion center (binyamin h'uma) so the girls and I, in the heat, dragged our suitcase, and their camp backpacks.  Our bus number was not listed but we were told it was the right place.  As a very prepared traveler, we were 15 minutes early for a bus that was 20 minutes late!  The girls were incredible just sitting in a shady spot and chatting with one another while we waited.

Only a minor rush to press onto the bus.  I was a bit miffed that no one gave the girls any respect.  So, I just put my arms out to either side, blocking anyone from getting on the bus and making a space for the girls to walk.  One guy gave me a look so I said, in my best Hebrew, "hey, I've got daughters."  Based upon body language and inflection, he could care less.  I love Israel.

Once on the bus, everyone took both seats for themselves.  We were already in the very back and no two seats together for the girls.  I kindly asked 3 people to double up so the girls could together.  No one obliged.  This time, I did not like Israel.

So...I simply deposited Rebecca onto one seat, forcing, of course, the women who placed every bag she could imagine on the seat to keep it open, to move her things.  I did the same for Shayna on the other side, and I sat between them on the very back seat.  It was a Dollinger triangle in between not-so-nice Israelis.  I sat next to a Haredi guy who, I knew, would not sit next to Rebecca (and maybe not Shayna).  I did take advantage of the fact that I was just a dumb tourist so I started a whole conversation with the Hassidic guy pretending that I was unfazed by the worlds of differences between us.

We drove about 30 minutes outside the city when...

A loud explosion hit the bus, followed, in incredibly short order, a series of loud and repetitious bangs.  Bang.  Bang.  Bang.  Bang. Bang.  It all happened in just 3 or 4 seconds but here, in real slow motion, was the scene for me:

Explosion and jolting of the bus....Shock....Shock....Shock...Curiousity (what was that?)...Was it a bomb?....bang...bang...bang...Is someone firing at us?.....The bus is still in one piece and so are we.  Ergo, that wasn't a bomb.  We must have had a tire blow out.  (And the wheel well was right underneath where Shayna was sitting).

In those precious few seconds, I did look up the rows on the bus to see many of the Israelis putting their arms out just to calm everyone to say it was alright.  

The driver pulled to the side of the road.  No one was upset about the flat tire.  Perspective!

While we sat there and the driver was calling for repairs on his cel phone, I thought, "how cool.  Stuck on the side of the road in an Egged public bus outside Jerusalem on our way to Tzfat."  I opened up my handy dandy backpack, pulled out lots of fully charged electronic games, drinks, snacks. (Marci, be proud!) and gave so many thanks that we all DID indeed go to the bathroom BEFORE we got on the bus.

Then, I got a little real.  How long, exactly, will this be fun?  When will it become frustrating?  When will it become angering...

It was slightly angering when the repair truck came, all the repair guys got out; they spent a whole lot of time staring at the flat tire...but NO ONE would actually work on it.  Welcome to Israel.  I love Israel.

I have been very excited about my Hebrew; getting most of what people tell me.  Interesting observation: when the bus driver got on the PA to explain our situation and what we would be doing to solve it, I could not understand A SINGLE WORD.  What a time for my language skills to fail me.  Fortunately, I was able to get it translated.

I got on the phone and just started calling folks; Marci, my friends, family.  I loved that I have all these Israel cel phone numbers to call.

90 minutes later, a replacement bus arrived.  We all piled off our bus and onto the other.  Of course, what's the rule here?  Same seats?  Same rush on board?  Oy.

We were the last off our bus (sitting in the back row) and last on the new bus.  So, imagine our surprise when there was a row of empty seats for the girls (on an identically sized bus) and the Haredi guy took the way back and gave me his two seats in the row.  I suppose after an experience like that, people were willing to sit a little closer.  I do love Israel (and I ended up quite chatty with the folks who initially wouldn't give up their seats).  Heck, I even let one guy use my cel phone (as long as he promised not to call outside Israel :)

All told, we were on that bus for 5 hours.  The girls remained incredible travelers.  Our new Israeli friends on the bus told us a better place to disembark the bus with directions to get us right to the Hotel.  

We arrived about 9 pm, met up with the Goldsteins (Phil, Ari, and Hallie), classmates of Rebecca (well, not Phil.  He's the dad but I think would admit to some childishness) who also came for Tal's bar mitzvah.  We ate a late dinner at the hotel and climbed into bed to get ready for a 6:30 am wake up call for the bar mitzvah.

What a day!