And it wasn't just the barbershop that I noticed today in the shuk. When I'm in Mahane Yehuda, I'm shopping, looking for the ripest tomatoes (עגבנייות), the reddest pomegranate (רימונים), the cheapest sweet potato (בטטות). But today, I saw pictures of the vendors, their families, Moshiach. I found places that sell a certain spice or leaf that I have been looking diligently for right where I've walked past it twenty times. And while I answered elderly Israelis' questions as to who we were (all in Hebrew I may add) and thanked them for their כל הכבודים(Kol Hakevodim-all the respect) or moved out of the way of the shuk-wheeley-grocery-holding-bags as old women jabbed them into the back of my ankles muttering a less than heartfelt סליחה(slicha-sorry/excuse me) I realized how lucky I really am to be here.
Eliana and I have set up a few goals for the year. Everyday, I try to have an interaction in Hebrew, whether it is at the post office and someone telling me to push (דחוף)the door instead of pulling(משוך) or to give directions to someone lost or to go grocery shopping in סופרסול (supersol) by myself. "Making a Hebrew" is what we call it. OIB is another goal that I may explain later. To explore every section of the Old City העיר העתיקה(Ha'Ir Ha'Atikah-). And to live this year, ugh there isn't a word so I will use a bunch, successfully/happily/interestingly/fully/appreciatively/completely.
With the two month mark 3 days away, I must admit that it has been incredibly hard. To go from being an American–Upper–Middle–Class–Suburban–White–Girl from a good family where I can drive to Wal-mart and buy whatever I need or maybe Target or Publix if I want something a little "nicer" to being in the shuk searching for the best/cheapest whatever pushing hordes of people out of my way thinking in English translating everything into Hebrew holding ten different bags of different types of produce then running after the bus so I do not have to wait 20 mins for the next one pushing my way onto the 13 bus to get home only to then cook all of this food (3 times a day) that I just bought. Then when that is all over, there is the kitchen to clean sans dishwasher. And when it's all over, in the end, it's not that much, millions of people do it everyday.
And that's just part of the food story. There is also the social life of every Israeli our age being in the army. There is the fright of crime that exists in every city. I have already had two very creepy encounters in public parks that I will spare the details of right now. And then there is the new in Gilo or Hebron or Syria or Gilad or Matan Asa and Carmi Ilan and its amazing to be here and feel it and interestingly not feel it, but it is also grounding. And right now as I type this, I realize how much I love it. And more importantly -and probably where a lot of frustration is coming from- how much I want to share it. I want my parents to see it (whatever "it" is). I want Bogart, Georgia and the people of it to feel it. I want my greater family to understand it. And most importantly I want my brother, Harry, to know it. Maybe that's why I finally let Eliana convince me to write this blog. It gives me something to run with and hopefully you will find something to run with too.
