Train Talk

The first thing I noticed was the youngish man who stood up and said, “I’ll tell the driver.”

Tell the driver? Was he crazy? He sounded like the old woman the other day who called out “Rega!” as she made for the open door, causing me to smile. Rega, literally moment, is what an Israeli passenger calls to the bus driver to warn him not to close the door because the passenger wants to get off. Despite eighteen months of living with the light railway, Jerusalemites are still not completely used to this mode of transport. Some of them, for instance, still think they should be able to buy the ticket on the train.

But this man, it turned out, wasn’t crazy. He knocked on the glass that separated our front carriage from the driver’s compartment. When the driver turned round, the man spoke to him.

“Someone’s dropped a Rav Kav between the train and the platform. I’ll try and get it. Don’t move the train.” A Rav Kav, I should explain, is Jerusalem’s version of London’s Oyster card. You can fill it up and use it to travel on trains and buses within the city.

The man reached down, retrieved the card and handed it to the grateful old man who had dropped it. The younger man returned to his seat and the older man touched his card on the machine and sat down, too. The train doors closed and the train pulled away from the station. I glanced at my watch. Almost one o’clock. A popular time for old people to travel, I thought, looking around.

Suddenly an old man with a knitted yarmulke stood up. There is a dress code here as far as men’s headgear goes. A knitted yarmulke means orthodox. A black one means more orthodox. A black hat  means ultra-orthodox. The old man with the knitted yarmulke said, “I lost my Rav Kav.” He took a pile of papers out of his pocket and started to go through them.

Another old man, with white curly hair and no yarmulke, said, “So it’s yours?”

There followed a convoluted conversation between Knitted Yarmulke and No Yarmulke, during which each tried to make sense of the other’s words. All the while Knitted Yarmulke went through the same pile of papers over and over, opening and refolding pages of newspaper and searching inside a wallet.

“Was it a Rav Kav?”

“What?”

“What sort of card did you lose?”

“A card for the train.”

“A single ticket or a whole card?”

“A card – a Rav Kav.”

“Someone over there found a Rav Kav. Maybe it’s yours.”

Knitted Yarmulke went to ask. “I heard someone found a Rav Kav and I just lost one. Maybe it’s mine.”

“No,” said the lucky old man whose Rav Kav had been retrieved for him by the younger man. “I dropped my Rav Kav and this man picked it up for me. But it’s mine, I promise.”

“I believe you. I’m not accusing you.”

They parted amicably and Knitted Yarmulke returned to his seat minus a Rav Kav.

“You can get another one,” said No Yarmulke.

“I know, I’ve lost it before,” said Knitted Yarmulke. “But I’m going home now, in the other direction.”

“Right, but another time you can buy a single ticket and go to get a new Rav Kav.”

“Right.”

I was glad that was all finally cleared up.

 

100 Word Challenge – Week #74

Click to join in the fun

The challenge: 104 words including:

…the extreme weather meant…

I’m throwing fiction to the elements this week. We had our extreme weather about a week before most of you.

So near and yet so different

In Tel-Aviv, the extreme weather meant flooding, road closures and terrible traffic jams.

In Modi’in, a shopping centre was flooded, giving rise to the picture of a restaurant, the diners with their feet in water, that appeared on Facebook. Another interesting picture compared the shopping mall to Venice. They did look rather similar.

In Jerusalem, the extreme weather meant a traffic shutdown, a welcome holiday, snowmen, snowballs and beautiful, silent whiteness. What a difference a few kilometres and a few hundred metres make!

A week later, we sat lazing on the grass in warm sunshine, not a trace of extreme weather in sight.

Frozen pond

 

It’s Snowing!

Snow is falling in Jerusalem. I can see white flakes coming down silently as I write this.

OK. I know. Many of you are so used to snow that you don’t see it as anything special. But in Jerusalem it’s very special. We don’t get snow every year. Last year it snowed a bit one day, but it had hardly settled when it melted. This time, we have real snow.

And besides, how many of you have seen a palm tree in the snow?

Palm tree in snow

Most homes in this country never see snow. People travel to Jerusalem to see it – if they manage to get here when the roads are closed.

So forgive me my excitement on this unusual day. Tomorrow, when the snow has melted, we’ll think about how to clear the path to the front garden.

Where’s the path gone?

Update: I had to add this photo of our pond taken by my son.

 

Frozen pond

 

Back to Normal

I don’t know if there’s ever a “normal” in this country, but the firing has ceased and so has NaNoWriMo. It was my first attempt and I managed 35,044 words.

I didn’t “win”, but I wrote every day and I now have the first draft of a novel I can work with.

In addition, I met some lovely people in Jerusalem who were also doing NaNo.

So I enjoyed the experience and, whatever they say, I feel I’ve won!

 

Write-in

This morning, I kept the Internet off so that it wouldn’t disturb me as I wrote. Then I turned it on despite knowing what I’d find. The usual tweets about writing, books, plumbing, birthdays, etc. are interspersed with serious and worrying tweets about things that are going on not a million miles from here. Facebook is just the same.

I can never get my head round this. I can’t concentrate on the usual everyday discussions when I know what else is happening. I’ll probably turn the Internet off again soon. When the background music gets too loud, it’s better to work without it.

Before I turn it off, I want to say something about NaNoWriMo write-ins, of which there have been two so far in Jerusalem.

The first was held in a central café. About eleven people attended, although three of those sat in a different part of the café  and didn’t find the others until they left! It wasn’t particularly comfortable balancing our laptops on the little tables, there were not enough electric sockets and we were bothered by cigarette smoke that wafted in from outside. But it was great to meet other writers, discuss our novel-writing progress and write together.

For the second write-in, I invited participants to my house. Only three others came, but again we had a very rewarding time, writing much more than we would have done alone.

I would definitely recommend this activity to anyone who is wondering about joining a write-in. Writing is often a lonely activity. Sometimes that’s good, other times it’s good to get together.

 

A-Z Challenge: Z is for Zoo

Jerusalem Zoo

Jerusalem Zoo

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I had planned a trip to the zoo with my friend, Marallyn. Sadly, that hasn’t worked out yet. However, I found some photos hubby took years ago when the children were small.

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Jerusalem Zoo

The Tisch Family Zoological Gardens started out in 1940 as the Jerusalem Biblical Zoo. The current location has been open since 1993 and stretches over 62 beautifully landscaped acres.

Jerusalem Zoo

With this post, I come to the end of the A-Z Challenge. It has been fun but exhausting! I hope those of you who found me through it will come back. Sometimes I blog about Jerusalem. Other times I blog about writing, or social anxiety, or bullying, or anything else I feel like talking about.

Jerusalem Zoo

 

A-Z Challenge: Y is for Yad Vashem

Yad Vashem - Memorial to Holocaust Victims

I can’t do better than to quote from the website:

As the Jewish people’s living memorial to the Holocaust, Yad Vashem safeguards the memory of the past and imparts its meaning for future generations. Established in 1953, as the world center for documentation, research, education and commemoration of the Holocaust, Yad Vashem is today a dynamic and vital place of intergenerational and international encounter.

 

A-Z Challenge: X is for Xanadu

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre

I have to admit I had a bit of trouble with X. Until I discovered Xanadu.

Xanadu, or Shangdu, isn’t actually in Jerusalem. It’s not even anywhere near Jerusalem. It’s in Inner Mongolia, China.

But… there’s a link. Marco Polo, the Venetian explorer (or should that be x-plorer?) is alleged to have made a journey from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem to Xanadu.

So what?

Good question. I don’t have an answer. I suppose in the 13^th century it would have been a fairly difficult journey.

Anyway, it gives me an X word and an opportunity to post a couple of pictures of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre

 

A-Z Challenge: W is for Western, Wailing, Wall, Windmill

Two places today. I couldn’t leave either of them out.

The Western Wall (or Wailing Wall) is the holiest site in Judaism. It is a remnant of the ancient wall that surrounded the Second Temple, and is known to have been a site for prayer and pilgrimage since the 4^th century.

Western Wall

Montefiore's Windmill

The windmill in the Mishkenot Sha’ananim neighbourhood was built in 1857 by the British Jewish philanthropist, Sir Moses Montefiore. Unfortunately, Sir Moses and friends failed to take local conditions into account. The mill was hardly used, mainly because there was not enough wind on most days. Now (or at least until recently) it houses displays showing the achievements of Sir Moses Montefiore.

The windmill is currently undergoing renovation. Apparently they’re turning it back into a working mill.

Fortunately, we have an older photo.

Montefiore's Windmill

 

A-Z Challenge: V is for Via Dolorosa

Via Dolorosa

The Via Dolorosa is a street in the Old City of Jerusalem, believed to be the path that Jesus walked on the way to his crucifixion. Its name means “Way of Grief” or “Way of Suffering”. The route is traversed by many processions throughout the year and particularly at Easter.