Shalom from the Old Jerusalem Hostel! Here's a recap of day one.
I rose early, well before the sun. Lacing up my shoes, I went over the coming run in my mind, as well as the previous day's events. I'd joined Alicia and Amy at the Old Jaffa Hostel (located in Old Town Jaffa, heralded as the world's oldest port city and dating back nearly 4,000 years) just after 8 p.m. on Sunday (9 a.m. Mountain Standard Time for those of you keeping track at home). My trip from the airport in Tel Aviv to Yafo as locals refer to it, had been less than smooth but, ultimately, enjoyable. After a sleep-filled flight from Madrid to Tel Aviv during which I got more sleep than I had for the previous 48 hours, I made my way through passport control, customs, bought a Coke, got some Sheckels (3.5/$1- the Dollar is crap), and hopped on my first bus. ALicia gave me straightforward directions to the hostel, or so I thought. After one bus switch, I arrived at the at the Tel Aviv Central Bus Station, at which I was supposed to hop on 'bus 46'. I quickly dscovered, though, that 'bus 46' made no stop at the Central Station and, after several discussions with non-English bus drivers, I realized that my best bet was to hop on 'bus 461'. Upon doing so, I explained to the driver that I wanted to get to the 'Old Jaffa Hostel' to which he replied with a look of puzzlement but said that I should get on anyway.
We headed through and then out of Central Tel Aviv. One thing that struck me right away was the high number of young people in military uniforms, both male and female (military service here is compulsory, for both genders). They mostly seemed in high spirits, heading home after a long and, I reckon, hard day of work. As we moved further and further away from the city, I began to wonder if, perhaps, I'd missed my stop. My main cue from Alicia's directions was that I needed to get off the bus at the stop just after the clocktower. The trouble was, in the hustle and bustle of the city, I feared I might have missed my cue. Still, I pressed on (I've now been on three trips abroad, and, though this is not much, I've been in unanticipated situations before- they, more often than not, seem to work out) and, fortunately, the bus driver probed other risers as to whether or not they spoke English. One did, mas o menos, and he told me that I needed to ride the bus all the way to the end of the line, get off, go down a couple of levels, and get on the 'DAN 46' bus, which I did, after a pee, coke, and bagel-like piece of bread sold to me by a jolly old baker whose shop had acquired quite an audience due to its broadcasting, on a flatscreen, T.V., of the English Premier League match between Liverpool and Everton. With that, I hopped on a bus and began to make my way through the sprawling, night-time Yafo scene. Young people lined the restaurant- and shop-filled streets. The sound of horns and music filled the cool, breezy sea-side air, which addred a salty touch to each breath. Finally, I saw my clock tower, bid the drive farewell, and made my way up the street. I stopped in with a couple of local vendors to ask for directions to the Old Jaffa Hostel, and, before long, was heading through the doors of a building that looked, and is, several hundred years old.
Amy, our other traveling mate (and Alicia's friend from Peace Corps service in The Gambia), found me in the lobby and ushered me into Room 23, which, I swear, had more charm, space, and character than any room in which I've stayed. I was quite happy to see my friends and began recounting the events of the last few hours and asked them about the beginning of their time in the city. They'd had an opportunity to walk along the boardwalk by the Mediterranean to the hotel from which our Jerusalem tour bus would depart the following morning (I'm currently writing this dispatch from that very bus (I initially wrote this with pen and am now typing at the hostel)). After a few more minutes of discussion, Alicia and I set out for a bite and a walk, while Amy made her way to the rooftop of our hostel, to which I followed her before departing with Alicia.
In sum, the rooftop was incredible. The point overlooked the city, including the sea, a large, green-glowing mosque, and the dramatic juxtaposition (to use the diction of 'Lonely Plant-Israel') of Yafo's Old City and the modern, booming metropolitan area of Tel Aviv. I felt this was a place, coccooned by a cool, pleasant breeze, where one could be free, where one could express their true feelings to another, and where one could make peace with the Earth and remain forever. Remaining forever, however, was not in th cards for me, and I quickly made my way downstairs to rejoin Alicia.
We made our way down the street and stopped in with a street-side vendor. He looked to be cooking up something delicious. Essentially, he had a stand, grill, and an array of large, sesame seed bagels, sauces (cream cheese), and vegetables, and, I saw, was combining them into a panini-like snack. I promptly ordered one and, before long, the young chef sent us on our way smiling.
We walked along the sea, towards the glowing mosque. The city stretched out before us. To the left, the Mediterranean opened up and seemed to continue infinitely. It was a soft, exquizite scene. The embrace of old buildings with their timeless, original walls, the sea, and surrounding gardens brought joyu to the cuddling couples who made their ways near us along the walk.
We proceeded, discussing the good fortune we'd had in planning and, now, making this trip. We remarked on the numerous cats that rushed along the streets (I was reminded of Church Rock and the endless flow of dogs that visit us and, at times, our classrooms) and stopped to observe and enjoy an Arabic wedding taking place at a shore-side restaurant--music, dancing, sheer excitement, and joy.
Both of us felt joy and a sense of wonder at the things to come, and, as I laced up Adidas the following morning and prepared to run, I knew that this trip represented another opportunity to grow, learn, and develop. I need to get tougher, stronger, smarter, and more appreciative. Journeying in the Middle East, I think, will be a major and positive step toward this significant goal.
Shalom, good friends! We've arrived in Jerusalem. In the next posting, I'll have a tale of our dynamic and fast-paced visit to the Old City and its many historic sites. Until then, take care!
Cheerio,
--Daniel
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