Hills

The transition from Chicago to Jerusalem requires certain adjustments... cultural, linguistic, gastronomic. As far as culture goes, you would be on very familiar ground, as American culture has firmly marked its territory, and not always in a good way. The metaphor was not random. As to language, you hear as much English on the streets as you do Hebrew, with French not far behind. When it comes to food, it's so much better here. The quality and variety of fresh produce is amazing, and the food scene is exploding as an indigenous Israeli cuisine evolves. It will only get better with all the French people moving here.

Some people feel they have made the transition when they can convert celsius to fahrenheit or kilos to pounds without using a calculator. My yardstick is hills.

One thing that Jerusalem has in abundance is hills. Altho I consider myself in stellar shape on level ground, the hills here are a challenge at the beginning. Even a slight incline can leave me breathless. I take solace from the fact that Jerusalem's altitude is 2600 feet; Chicago's is 670.

Part of the game is figuring out how to avoid hills as much as possible. Thanks to topography there are many ways to get from A to B. As my friend Bevie said many years ago: for every shortcut there's a shorter cut. To that I added: and a flatter cut.

I feel I've truly accomplished something when I can get up a hill (and a flight of stairs) without an effort. I passed this milestone yesterday when I walked to the community center where I take art and Arabic classes, about half an hour and many hills away from this apartment.

But it's not all about me ...

Sid came home from his first week in Sar-el yesterday afternoon. He said it was more physically demanding than in the past. They have him packing and unpacking large, heavy cartons. He's working in the same warehouse he did last year. The manager's name is Mashiach (messiah), and he's a wonderful guy. I worked a shift for him the first time I did Sar-el. We will spend a quiet Shabbat by ourselves, then he returns for the second week on Sunday.

There are so many things I love about this city. Food aside, the people are the best. Everywhere you turn you see people engaging with each other in the kindest and friendliest ways. Perfect strangers start conversations while waiting for a bus or waiting in line at the grocery store. If you look lost someone will approach and ask if you need directions. Kids still get up to offer their seat on the bus. This morning the cashier at the grocery store (yes, the one who has a crush on Sid) saved us 10 shekels by telling us we should buy a different kind of wine than what we had in our cart - just as good and it was on sale. If there's ever some kind of emergency people rush to help. Unfortunately that's becoming an all too frequent situation these days since the knife intifada started in September.

I love the spiritual rhythm of Jerusalem on Fridays, which is more palpable than other parts of Israel with the possible exception of Safed. The scent of fresh baked challot, the fact that candle-lighting times replace traffic reports on the afternoon newscasts, the fresh flowers that are sold outside the grocery stores, the shopping rush hour, everyone (even the most rabidly secular) saying Shabbat shalom instead of bye. And the sense of peace that falls over the city as streets empty of cars and people as the sun sets behind the hills.



Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem,

Peggy and Sid