Here we go again...

Every time before a big trip I get anxious, for at least a few days before and usually a few days into the trip as well. This is no different, and the feelings are compounded by jet lag and my incredibly uncomfortable and pillowless bed. I am not making a dent in the hard, foam mattress, but it is making a dent in me; any curved body parts are squaring out and whole limbs are threatening desertion.

The flight was pretty average as far as El Al goes. There were no exciting security questions, I slept pretty well, the food was below par, etc. At first I was seated just in front of two JAPs (black sweat pants, check; straightened hair, check; too much makeup for an international flight, check), but I managed to switch with a woman so she could be next to her husband and I could sit on the aisle with a mother and cute kid. The most notable incident was at the very end of the flight when the little boy began to cry because he wanted to go to the bathroom but no one was allowed out of their chairs. They ended up using a bottle, the whole time the mother congratulating her son so profusely that I doubt he’ll ever use a real toilet again.

Before my arrival I had been most anxious about the living situation. It had taken a long time for the professor I will be working with to arrange it and the directions were vague. I ended up dragging around one heavy bag (I left the other with the shomer, guard) all around the area before I remembered that madrigot means stairs and I should have taken the first turning on my left. With the help of a nice passerby I found the dorm office. The guy there, Danny, was incredibly kind and not only filled out all of my Hebrew paperwork, but walked me to my apartment and carried my heaviest bag as well. My shutafa, flatmate, had no idea I was coming and answered the door in a bathrobe having just prepared fish. Her name is Natalie and she is so sweet that by the time I was out of the shower she had cleaned the kitchen, managed to make the fish smell disappear, and made me a cup of tea “for my strength.”

The dorms are located on Har HaSofim, which is just a few blocks from the WUJS apartment I had shared with four women just over two years ago. The entrance of my dorm complex is actually right across the street from my favorite falafel stand from that time! What makes this falafel so good is (1) they make it with labne, a creamy cheese which I have never seen used with falafel anywhere else and when I have begged American falafel makers to try it they refuse, and (2) this stand is at the bottom of a hill and another falafel place is at the top of the hill, each place offers virtually the same menu with the same prices and is run by the same family, however each person has his favorite and will only ever go to one of the stores, and mine is the one at the bottom of the hill. So for my first meal in Israel I had it up just as I like; hetzi lafah im labne with salad, fried cauliflower and amber sauce.

Just as I got my food Naomi (a friend from WUJS who moved to Jerusalem) arrived as we had arranged. We sat on the chairs outside the stand and enjoyed the people-watching; there was a young family in a parked car across the street and the father positioned the baby so that she looked like she was driving and had her do other tricks for our amusement. Then young men passed us, two were walking and the third rode on a donkey the way friends in the US might walk if one of them had a bicycle, with the young man’s legs touching the ground on either side of the stocky animal. We walked around the area so I could regain my bearings, and orient myself to the new dorms that have been put up, and were passed by a man leading his horse around the streets. I wanted to stay out longer to see what other animals might pass us by.

Now, it is 4 in the morning, and I am waiting for the Tylenol PM to take effect. I can hear the mezzuin call from the loudspeakers of the nearest mosque.