Shortly after I finished the last
entry in the Frankfurt airport, I boarded the flight bound for Tel-Aviv. I was fast asleep before takeoff, and didn't
wake up until we began our descent, around five hours later. By this point, it was just after 3:00 pm
local time, or 8:00 am Eastern Standard Time.
I peered out the window, and saw desert beneath me; a completely
different landscape and climate than the continental ones I had left far
behind. For the third time, I
disembarked, and entered Israel.
I staggered through customs and
baggage claim, and managed to buy a train ticket for Ramleh, for ₪15. There was a transfer at Tel Aviv, where I needed
to wait for nearly an hour before the train for Ramleh arrived. Although some information was posted and
announced in English, there are many data available only in Hebrew; for instance,
the intermediate stops on a particular railroad line, prior to its terminal,
eponymous line. I hopped off at Ramle,
and from there, needed to make it to the other side of town. I asked the railroad employee outside of the
train station, whose job this seemed to be, to call a cab for me, which he
did. I don't think that he spoke any
English, but I managed to make it understood that I needed a taxi to bring me
to such-and-such a destination ("ani tzarikh moniyah," or its
near equivalent, seemed to get the message across). Likewise, the cabbie was a sabra who spoke
rather quickly, but I knew the address, and could articulate "ani
rotzeh linso'a l'" well enough for him to grasp my meaning. He brought me to the address that I had
specified in about 10 minutes' time, driving past the shuk, or market,
on the way. His fee was ₪25, making my
trip somewhat more economical than the ₪92 estimated cost for a taxi lift
directly from Ben Gurion Airport to Ramleh.
The address to which the cab brought
me was a beautiful house in a district whose architecture reminded me of the
old stone-built district in Tzfat. There
were some American-looking student-age people standing outside, who told me
that I had made it to the right place. They
were all about to leave together to pick up groceries, but called Carmel, the
regional director for Oranim, to tell him that I had arrived, and led me inside
the house, where eight or so of them, I think, will together be sharing. It's a beautifully-furnished building that
looks like a highly-fashionable apartment from New York City; no joke. I saw a well-equipped kitchen, at least two
televisions, and even Impressionist-style art on the walls. I sat and read until Carmel arrived. When he did, he made it clear that he was
glad to see me. He briefed me a little
bit, gave me a couple of maps, and drove me, in his car, to the apartment where
I'll be staying, not even 10 minutes' walk away. I was grateful, because I still had my suitcase
with me.
The apartment that I'll be sharing
with three other men is on the fourth floor of a rather dingy apartment
building. There's an electronic code to
open the door, and it's obvious to see the four digits that make it up, because
the four buttons lack the layer of grime that coats the rest of the keypad. I'll be sharing a very small room with one of
the two Bens living in the apartment; the other bedroom is occupied by Noach
and the other Ben. The rest of the
apartment consists of an entrance room with a television and a couple of
couches, a closet-like bathroom, shower, a kitchen without chairs or a table,
and a cramped hallway with some torn-up couches. It's small, but certainly not the most
cramped sleeping quarters I've ever inhabited.
I don't plan on spending much time inside after the first day or
two. More importantly, my housemates all
seem friendly enough, something that matters to me much more than the physical
facilities. Noach took me on a tour of
the neighborhood, showing me the local grocery stores, falafel stand, library,
and shuk. I hope that I'll be
able to find everything again in daylight, it being after 9:00 by the time I
finished. I picked up some fruit and
milk from the only grocery store still open, and hope to get some more at the shuk
in the future. My Modern Hebrew is
almost painfully bad; reading the label on the milk carton, I can read that
it's chalav, and see that it's pasteurized, but have no clue what any of
the other words on the package indicate, except shamon, which I believe
to be a reference to milkfat content.
I spoke extensively to Noach on our
walk, and we compared our backgrounds, educations, interests, etc. Unlike me, he and the others in the apartment
are in a 5-month program that began earlier this summer, and isn't strictly
limited to teaching in a school. Other
aspects of his program, such as the inclusion of Ulpan lessons, for instance,
are part of both programs. The Ben who
isn't my roommate is from Australia, and, like me, studied history in
college. We had a surprisingly large
amount to talk amount, given the fact that I really don't know what I'm talking
about, no matter what the period or region, because I have such shallow
historical knowledge. Ben knows a fair
amount of theory, something I only really brushed up against at Cornell, where,
if you're an undergraduate, it's possible to avoid theory if you choose to (as
I did). I'm hoping to have more
conversations with him in the future.
Ramleh is definitely a poor
city. You can tell; it reminds me of
some of the poorer neighborhoods. The
roads are smaller, the buildings are shorter, and there are date palms planted
on the traffic islands, but small-city poverty looks remarkably similar around
the world.
Alright, I'm going to want to go to
bed soon, but promise to talk more about the city and its inhabitants in the
future. Tomorrow, I have orientation at
9:00 am at the library. I hope that all
goes well. Regardless, I promise to tell
you all about it!
~JD
No comments:
Post a Comment