(So called because of a broken clock in the dance studio the other day. We had our break from 9 till 9 and had to hurry through the rest of rehearsal cause it was 9. Luckily, we had some time after before the bus came because it was only 9.)
I woke up at 4:40AM this morning. I have a friend who works in the shuk and my roommate and I were planning on accompanying him to see the shuk open. An hour later, I hadn’t heard a peep from either of them and was getting a bit tired of wandering around the empty campus. Suddenly, I got a call, and we were off and running.
The shuk is an open-air market in the middle of Jerusalem. It is by far my favorite place in all of Israel. Just getting there is an experience. There is such diversity on the train/bus: Haredi Jews (the Ultra Orthodox, in their dark suits, with their long hair curls and tzit tzit hanging down), Muslim women, Arab teenagers with hair slicked this way and that, tourists, people like me who still seem like tourists even if they are residing in the city, Ethiopian Jews, Middle Eastern Jews, Asian Jews etc. Huge families squeeze on the train, with as many as 6 children. You have to be careful who you are standing next to as it seems every other person is garbed in order to protect themselves from physical contact with the wrong gender. A beautiful, interesting mix of people. We rode the train down, which has signs in Arabic, Hebrew and English (hopefully a good sign for the future of this city). It is still free, although it has been working since I got here. They have yet to figure out how they are charging people or how the tickets work or something. Just my luck!
We hopped off the train and walked into the shuk. There were huge trucks in the middle of the shuk, full of fruits and vegetables. Men were carrying hot trays of fresh bread and pastries to various stores. Slowly things were beginning to open. The shuk is a sensory delight. The air is filled with the smell of so many foods: rugelach (a sticky, chocolate pastry), sweet, ripe mangos (mangos and pomegranates are not delicacies here! They grow in abundance! We Americans can’t seem to get enough of them), spices that sit outside in bags…Everywhere you go, you are surrounded by beautiful food. This morning, the vegetables shone. Dark eggplants, cheerful, bright tomatoes, small cucumbers, pale lemons…piles and piles of vegetables and fruits. Bags of rice and lentils and beans. Sticky towers of dates and raisins and other dried fruits. Bowls full of nuts, stores full of pastries, wheels of cheese, mountains of olives. And the sounds. Everyone yelling out their prices, yelling at each other, laughing at each other. The bakeries are surrounded by a soft buzzing sound as they are loved by huge, peaceful wasps. People wheel small cloth carts around, ones I associate with little old ladies. Others carry their bags in their arms and on their backs. Some just run into the shuk to grab a handful of candy from one of the stores full of sweets. I. Love. The. Shuk.
Well, it was only 6:30 and I was still a bit asleep. I walked around until I found a place to sit in the sun to wake up. Two men came sprinting past me in bright yellow shirts and black spandex. Then two more men. I looked up the road and saw that there was a whole gaggle of people running down the hill toward me. I watched them whiz by my while trying to get my courage up to venture into the shuk by myself. Eventually I did. I find it difficult that I cannot converse with the shopkeepers. I want to ask for this and for that but do not know the words. I was able to apologize to someone today (for having big bills) and to say hello, how are you, I’m fine, happy holidays. I know all my numbers and no longer hesitate when they spit a price at me (sometimes in the shuk, it is best to just act as unpleasant as you possibly can. As though the shopkeeper is wasting your time just owning a store. At other times, a smile and a greeting work wonders, sometimes even winning me a discount or a sample. It seems to depend most on how the shopkeeper feels about us foreigners who don’t speak Hebrew acting like real Israelis and shopping in the shuk.) I am going to try to start learning the words for food so I can stop just saying “excuse me, excuse me!”
It was my plan when I came here to make friends with the shopkeepers. I began to do so today! I bought mini-challahs from the same store that I always get pastry and pita. The old man recognized me and gave me a big smile, asked how I was. I bought rice and bright orange lentils from an Ethiopian Jew who spoke fabulous English. He asked where I was from, if I was black. I am, I told him, with a Jewish mother. He wanted to know if I was planning on making aliyah and told me that he had. I told him how cool it is for me to see black Jews as there are so few in America. He gave me a mini-history lesson. I am planning on going back there, especially since I bought a kilo of rice and a kilo of lentils for 10.5 shekels, which is roughly the equivalent of about $3.50. That is the other fabulous thing about the shuk: the prices! Vegetables, fruits, grains and spices are so cheap here. I eat really healthy food all the time because it is less expensive than bread and dairy. It is going to be a difficult transition back to America!
I walked out of the shuk with a big smile on my face. I was laden down with cauliflower, grapes, peaches, green beans, tomatoes, onions, cucumbers, mini-challah, lentils and rice. I only spent $90 shekels- less than $30! I have food to last me the week. As I was walking out, I saw an old woman selling flowers. I have always wanted to buy flowers just because and this seemed like the day to do it. I picked out a bunch, smiling at her as she chattered at me and wished me a good day, a good year and good luck on Yom Kippur (that God would write my name in the Book of Life). I sat down to wait for the train, munching on bright purple grapes and holding my fragrant, beautiful bunch of flowers. And that feeling that today was a good day went through my entire body.
As I was sitting there, a grandfather and his granddaughter came and sat next to me. He was singing and stroking her hair while she ate a bit of candy. It was the sweetest picture. All of a sudden, we were surrounded by a loud Israeli family. There must have been 30 people! All talking and yelling at eachother and commenting on the countdown till the train got there. A woman took a video of her family, and there I was, sitting right in the middle of it, a foreigner with a bright pink backpack. What a great situation.
I rode the train home and picked some wine bottles off the top shelf of the kitchen (the customary place to put used alcohol bottles). I cut the stems of the flowers and placed them all over the apartment. What a good day. And it was only 9 o’clock.
No comments:
Post a Comment