It’s a Small World

The rest of our group managed to fly in without any big ticket issues, so now we’re 6 of us rolling around in a massive 9 passenger van. No creative luggage packing needed. It’s almost sad.

It was Shabbat evening when we entered Jerusalem, and not having looked at the GPS route properly we were dismayed to find ourselves in the dead center of the Mea She’arim. In a van. Driving. Mea She’arim is an Ultra Orthodox Jewish area that is fascinating but not overly welcoming. Especially on Shabbat. They park their cars and only walk places. Everyone and their dog knows that you don’t drive through that area on Shabbat. Except Google. Google clearly has no clue. Very uncomfortable time, that. The dirty looks we got were something to write home about.

Our apartment was right outside Old City, and we spent the whole next day walking around and touring churches and ruins. Fadwa and her sisters had invited our group for supper, so we tried to walk enough to keep our appetites up. Not hard at all in Jerusalem.

This go around we were just plum happy driving into the West Bank. No trepidation at all. The large cauliflowers for sale at the roundabout even smiled at us. You know, I’ve never associated roundabouts with a sudden hunger for cauliflower, but maybe I’m in a minority. There has to be a reason to park your table there. Traffic was less hectic than normal since no one from West Bank is working in Israel these days, but we managed to have a few laughs over darting cars and humongous cab-overs playing chicken in the street.

The sisters had been busy cooking and the feast was ready when we arrived. We straggled upstairs with our messy hair and tucked in. And what a feast. I am almost tipping into a food coma just thinking about it. Two heeping platters of Mansaf were set on the table along with a big bowl of hot yogurt and beef broth. The Mansaf involves a layer of Saj bread, torn into pieces and topped with cooked yogurt, heaps of sticky rice, soaked in yogurt again, and topped with big chunks of tender roast beef, yet more yogurt and sprinkled with cashews. There was a chili/garlic/lemon chutney available to spice it up.

We ate and ate till I felt like I’d burst. And then out came the homemade honey cake and hot sage tea. We moaned and kept eating. By the time we eased over to the soft chairs, where we were pressed with fresh citrus, half of us were falling asleep. Fadwa kept us jolly with all her stories, and by some unspoken rule we stayed completely off the war topic. It was a time of Joy and Friendship. After a while we staggered downstairs and fell into our beds. How blessed can a person get?