Thursday/Friday, November 14/15 Our last day in Israel – and
L’Hitra’ot.
Today was the day Reuven was able to set aside for us. So
where did we want to go? No clue.
We followed his suggestion – we drove about 90 minutes or so
to Karmiel, where he and his family had lived for three years. We visited the
Arab/Jewish school where his boys attended – called “Yad v’Yad” (“hand in
hand”), the goal of the program is to break down the barriers between Arabs and
Jews. Classes are held in Arabic and Hebrew.
The school’s principal kindly allowed one of the teachers (a
transplant from Seattle) to show us around the building. He was obviously Mr.
Poplular – he was surrounded by babbling and laughing little girls. He told us
the school has a strong emphasis on art, but unfortunately the art teacher was
nowhere to be found.
Next we stopped by the shul where Reuven worked. Lots of
familiar siddurim (prayer books) and humashim (bibles) were on the shelves. It
felt very homey.
While we ate lunch, we thought about where to go next.
Reuven was happy to take us back to Tsfat – it was “only” another hour away.
But a 3 hour drive back! He insisted he didn’t mind, so off we went.
Of course when we arrived at Tsfat, it was from a different
direction than the week before – and we had been in a van not paying any
attention at all where we had walked. Took a few tries asking directions to get
us to the general vicinity of the old city. Then we parked the car and just got
out and started walking.
The previous week we had been scooted down only one street
of shops – it was now apparent that there were many streets with galleries. We
wandered into one of the galleries – spectacular pieces, most of them well
beyond what we normally spend on artwork. The salesperson did a great job of stressing
that all the artwork in her gallery were inspired by spiritual concepts, which
made them all the more appealing, but not much less expensive! But, we did find
something we liked within our price range, and arranged to have it shipped.
We walked back up the street where we had been just the week
before – we found the weaver’s shop with the glorious (and expensive) prayer
shawls. We still don’t buy one.
While we’re wandering around, Reuven has conversations with
the shop keepers, who tell him that there is an artists’ cooperative in Tsfat
(started shortly after the War for Independence in 1949). To join the
cooperative, you have to be a resident of Tsfat for some number of years (i.e.
you can’t just move there and join the cooperative), then you apply and
audition. If you are accepted, you are given space for you to work and sell
your pieces. The shops are not in competition – since it’s a cooperative
arrangement, all the profits for all the shops are distributed.
Looking at this link I see that Andy and I missed a LOT.
We’ll just have to go back!
Maybe by the next time we go to Israel there’ll be a train
to Tsfat. Wishful thinking.
We decided to get back on the road by 4:00, because we still
needed to pack and get ourselves to the airport.
Off we go, Reuven figured he knew the way back. But then we
couldn’t seem to get ourselves out of Tsfat – we kept going around the same
traffic circle with the same results, until we finally realized it was all
right exits until we were back on the highway going south.
ANNNNDDD….rush hour traffic. Yey.
So Reuven launched into his family’s drive-time-killing game
of “Initials”. The idea is, give the initials and sex of a person you’re
thinking of and everybody else can ask unlimited questions until they figure it
out. Immediately there is a philosophical disagreement as to whether or not
there should be unlimited questions or only 20. We try Reuven’s way for a few
turns, then Andy’s way. We are so engrossed in the game and the Talmudic
discourse regarding the virtues and values of each point of view, we suddenly
noticed that we were in Haifa. We weren’t supposed to be in Haifa.
Oh here we go again. Something about us that derails all
good intentions and travel instructions. I’m now becoming concerned about
getting to the airport – though it’s supposed to be just a 20 minute drive from
Modi’in, I can just imagine what our presence in the car will do to suddenly have
us back in Tel Aviv instead.
Technology comes to the rescue – Andy turns on data roaming
on his phone and eventually we’re back on the right track and headed towards
Modi’in. Amazingly enough we only lost about 30 minutes – we arrived back at
about 7:30.
Our last meal with the Resnicks included a virtuoso
performance by Yaron on saxophone. What a send off!
We did manage to get to the airport in one straight shot –
so sad to say goodbye to the Resnicks and Israel. But we’ll be back! It’s only
L’hitra’ot – till we meet again!
We checked in, paid for our extra bag (thank you once again,
Shula and Reuven), and toddled towards our gate. Already exhausted and achy, I
hoped I’d just pass out once the plain took off.
Around midnight we starting listening for the boarding
announcement. But we hear nothing. People are lining up, but we still don’t
hear anything. We go stand in some line, but we’re asked if we’re with the
“group” - what group? – and
obviously we are not, and we are directed to the end of the other very long
line. What is going on here? How come there’s no 1st class/business
class/small children calls for boarding?
There’s an extra check of carry-on bags before boarding –
I’m asked if I had bought any liquids at the airport. Well, yeah, I said, but I
finished it. Ah, ok, the El Al person says, please go ahead and board. So I
take off down the tunnel, get onto the plane, find my seat, turn around to let
Andy in first and….there’s no Andy.
Because he had filled his water bottle after security and
while we were sitting at the gate, but they told him he had to empty it.
Sooooo the airport regulations let you bring liquids onto
the plane as long as you bought them after security. But El Al regulations say
No Liquids Period.
Boarding takes absolutely forever. Andy’s window seat has no
window – this tells me that even more seats have been squished into this 747
than designed. The guy in the middle seat is not a small guy. I feel like a
sardine. The right armrest is digging into my leg and with a stranger next to me;
I absolutely cannot find a position that is comfortable. The guy in front of me
is already testing how far back he can push back his seat.
In front of Andy is a woman; a hasid asks her very politely
if she is “with” the man next to her – she is not. He then asks her if she
would mind changing seats with him (another window seat a few rows up), so that
he won’t have to sit next a woman on the flight. He is very solicitous, and she
graciously agrees.
Now Andy has this big guy in the seat in front of him,
wearing his big black coat. Big guy with big coat cannot get comfortable (I can
commiserate), but he won’t take off his coat. His hatbox will not fit under the
seat. There is continued fussing until things are stowed.
Both Andy and I notice that our front neighbors have stowed
their stuff under their own seats instead of the seat in front of them. Both of
us are shifting our front-neighbors stuff around so there’s room for our own
stuff and our feet.
There are lots of babies on this flight, one of whom is
particularly vocal about his/her unhappiness. I am tempted to join in.
This is going to be a really long 11 hours….
It only felt like 3 days. It was a blessed relief to land
and get off that plane.
Ah well. Home sweet home – it was a highly successful trip,
but it was good to be home.
So, where shall we go next year?
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