Gloomy and Weird

Somewhere between Cheery and Natural and Gloomy and Weird is probably where we'll end up. But there isn't really much time to worry about it. What happens, happens. Cheery and Natural hasn't called back with anything definite.

It was hot today and now that the sun is down I'm looking forward to a walk in the cool air. Then maybe I'll cook some apples.

A sewing project has been staring me in the face for several days. Sometimes I get this sick feeling like it's not going to work. Yet, bit by bit, it's looking better. If nothing goes terribly wrong, it should be acceptable when it's finished. At least the colors are good, and maybe no one will notice that I can't sew a straight line.

Tunnels and Caves

There's no shortage of apartments to look at. But there's a major shortage of all the things I want. Space, beauty, low price, right location, a bathtub, light, not too many stairs.

We looked at a decent-sized place shaped like a tunnel. The walls were covered with very nice wood, and it included furniture and appliances. But I can't live in a tunnel. Maybe a tunnel with a sunny courtyard, but not a pure tunnel.

Another place we looked at had more light, and a stony sort of charm, but would be hard to heat. I might have considered it, but the owner confessed that he lives next door and plays loud guitar late at night. That might be a problem.

Then we went on a long trek to find an apartment on a street called Madregot, or Stairs. Someone told us that it was on the other side of the main drag, but when we got there we saw only unmarked alleys, and someone else told us it was on the other, other side of the main drag.
So we went to the other side and kept going until we apparently passed the street, since it had a different name at that point, so we had to back-track. "Go to the street just past the dumpster." Which dumpster? About the third one. It's called a street, but you can't drive down it or ride a bike either, because it's a steep hill, all stone stairs.

Buildings are roughly numbered in order, so #5 should be somewhere in the vicinity of 3, 4, 6 and 7, shouldn't it? (Numbers changed to protect the guilty.) Actually it's not. First you turn left, go down some stairs, then you turn right, go down some stairs. At the bottom is the number 5 clearly marked on the front of the cave--er, excuse me, apartment. It does have a small courtyard filled with plants and trees, but I doubt if a speck of sunlight ever gets through. And it's a bit small, and by the time we go back up all the stairs I've decided that deep holes, wells, caves and tunnels are just not my style.

Which is fine. We'll just stay where we are. Our present apartment has only one real flaw--it needs more electrical outlets. But even if it had them, that wouldn't solve the wire mess you get with computers.

In the back of my mind has continually been an apartment we looked at some time back that I nicknamed "Cheery and Natural." It wasn't clear to me at the time, but now I realize it had my name written all over it. Too late now. But if it ever comes up for rent again, we should grab it.

Wuh-hunh?..... No, can't be. No way! ... It is! Cheery and Natural is for rent again! Fantastic!

Will it still be there Monday morning? I'll be up at 6:01 a.m. Monday morning hopping on one foot and then the other.

Ravioli and Klbustur and Words

Ravioli

Etymology -- little turnips? More like little pillows. Anyway, I usually think of them as being filled with meat or cheese. Here, they can be filled with sweet potato, mushrooms, or eggplant.

I haven't tasted them, just seen them advertised. I wish I were free to eat out and try different foods. Not that I need to eat pasta, but a little variety would be nice.

Lately I have seen fliers tacked up on telephone poles that say something like Klbustur. What could that possibly be? Kalabooster? Cluvoster? Finally it dawned on me--it's Col Bo Store. "Col bo" means something like "everything in it." "Store" is not a Hebrew word at all. I can't think of a good term in English. It's a small store with a little bit of everything, but not food. Kind of like a hardware store, but with more things that women like.

If I were organized I'd make lists of words in English and Hebrew that sound similar or have the same consonants. Sometimes the similarity is coincidental, other times the words are actually related. Either way, it helps you to remember them.

שבר  or Shbr or Shvr   (compare: shivers, as in "broken to shivers")
לשבור   to break
שֶׁבֶר fragment or fracture
מַשְׁבֵּר   crisis -- at the breaking point
מִשְבָּר   wave, breaker

לחנוק   to choke, strangle, suffocate
חנק   "chet" for "hang," "nun-quf" for "neck"
The noun form applies to the choke on a car; however, not knowing much about motors, I don't have any idea what is being choked.

Wadi -- When it rains it runs fast and floods. When there's no rain, it dries up and you can't even wade in it.

Miqlahat -- How do you remember the word for "shower?" Well, what do you do when you take a shower? The shower head looks like a mike, and you sing "la-la-la" in the hot water.

Just Looking for a Home

The first time I saw the boll-weevil
He was standin' in the square
The next time I saw the boll-weevil
He had his whole fam'ly there
   Just lookin' for a home,
   Just lookin' for a home.

The boll-weevil said to the farmer
You'd better leave me alone
I done et up all your cotton,
And now I'll start on your corn.
   Just lookin' for a home,
   Just lookin' for a home.

Sounds like this guy would have made a wise farmer:

"I knows why that boll weevil done come. They say he come from Mexico, but I think he always been here. Away back yonder a spider live in the country, 'specially in the bottoms. He live on the cotton leaves and stalks, but he don't hurt it. These spiders kept the insects eat up. They plow deep then, and plants cotton in February, so it made 'fore the insects git bad."

"Then they gits to plowing deep, and it am colder ‘cause the trees all cut, and they plows up all the spiders and the cold kill them. They plants later, and there ain't no spiders left to eat up the boll weevil."

I hear that crazy ants are displacing fire ants. They don't sting like fire ants, but they will be harder to control.

But really what I was about to post was about apartment-hunting. We looked at one that was well laid out and nice and sunny and in a good location, but it had several drawbacks, including not enough space. I smile every time I think about how cheery it was and how natural it felt.

Then we looked at another one that had a totally perfect bathroom and a totally perfect kitchen. But it also had several drawbacks, that even the totally perfect bathroom and a totally perfect kitchen didn't make up for. I could about cry, though, for that bathroom and kitchen.

So we'll have to keep looking until we find something that has an imperfect bathroom and an imperfect kitchen in a somewhat acceptable location with a somewhat acceptable layout with almost enough space and not quite totally dark.

Unless I change my mind about cheery-and-natural-with-drawbacks and totally-perfect-with drawbacks. Can't have everything. But how do you choose? Guess I'll worry about it next week.

Transportation

There must be some way to get around better and do more. I'm not interested in driving a car in Jerusalem, and I can't walk far enough to really have a life, so I am considering options. Maybe I could get a skateboard. That would be good for coasting downhill.

Going uphill would take a motor. Maybe an electric skateboard? It has a remote control that you hold in your hand while you ride. I don't need to go fast. This would enable me to get there in fewer steps.

 Maybe some sort of scooter.

Or a personal transporter.

 Or a scooter with a seat.

 Better yet an electric tricycle. Something I've dreamed of for a long time.

Or I could get a puppy.

And train it to pull me.

At the end of long, exciting day,

I could relax on the couch.

That's my plan, anyway. Now I just have to carry it out.

 

Where Is My Home?

Looking for an apartment is always a time consuming venture, but we need to find a place closer to the University.
I saw the most perfect apartment several months ago, but the location wasn't right.
Then we looked at a well-lighted and aired apartment in a central location, but it was too small.
After that we saw a very large apartment with a garden, but it  was a little too expensive. The location was good, in that Al could get to school fairly quickly.
For me, no location will be as good as the present one, where I can reach several shops or parks without too much trouble. To be able to get to the store and buy some fresh cucumbers, and another day to another one to buy some good yogurt, gives me a little freedom and the satisfaction that I can do a little something for myself. If we were to live in a more spread out area, I would be able to do nothing at all unless I buy some sort of electric vehicle that you can drive on the sidewalk.
The best looking apartment, well-lighted, good price, good location, fresh warm-color paint, nice wood-look floor, was on the fifth floor. But going up one flight of stairs to get into the building, and 5 more to get to the apartment, would probably ensure that once there I would just stay. I would never get outside and I would get really depressed. The ground floor was surrounded by senseless arches. It might look nice from a distance, but after you go through the arches you are in a neglected basement-like place, with open floor good  for nothing  but crawling area for roaches or lizards--not secure enough for storing things in, or comfortable enough to lounge in.
The last apartment we saw at night, so I can't be sure what it would be like in the daytime. The living room might be nice, but the rest of it wasn't impressive. The clothesline got no sunshine at all. If you walk down a long parking lot and up a couple long ramps with high cement walls on both sides, there are some dingy but handy shops. I don't know what the purpose of all that cement is.
To be in contact with the ground or within a few steps of nature seems to me to be most important. Even in the city, near dusty and noisy streets, it seems right to be on the ground. Walking outside on warm cement, or on the same ground that trees gladly grow in, is what it takes for me to feel that I am not stuck on a shelf or in a cage or prison.
I am sure that when I see the right place, I will know it. If I can't find the right place, I will just have to pick one and make it the right place. That would mean painting it a nice color and arranging it just right. And buying all the necessary furniture and things. It could be sort of fun, or it could be a huge hassle. Probably a little of both.

Take a Ride

Wednesday was Jerusalem Day. Wednesday evening I tried to get to church by bus. Some streets were closed off for parades, so the buses had to take different routes.  (The route changes are published on the bus website, but I don't think the drivers or the passengers take much note of them.)
When my bus took an unexpected turn to get around the parade area, I decided I had better get off as soon as possible--but the driver didn't stop--he just kept going and going. So I waited it out, thinking he would probably eventually circle around closer to my destination. If worse came to worse, I could get off the bus and take a taxi. Meanwhile a grouchy-looking man was yelling what seemed to be complaints at the driver, but then he went up and had a friendly conversation with him. By that time several of the passengers were asking where we were going and some of them were trying to tell the driver where to turn. I don't know if he took their advice or not. At one point he turned right onto a street that was bumper-to-bumper, so he backed out of it and turned left instead. Eventually we came to a stop, not because the driver was interested in stopping, but because several passengers insisted on it.
I got on another bus and asked if it would take me to the train, and the driver gave me the barest nod, so I got on  hoping that it really would. Whenever we stopped to pick up more passengers, they were all asking where the bus was going and can we get there from here, which implied they were being forced to take whatever bus they could get, instead of their usual bus, or they wouldn't have been asking so many questions. (Not tourists, either, but Jerusalemites, several of whom I recognized from the other end of town.) We passed several crowded bustops where people were trying to stop any bus they could get, but most of the buses just passed them up. When we finally reached the train area, a police car was blocking the road, so what does the bus driver do? He starts honking at the policeman, over and over. The policeman wouldn't give in, so the bus driver took another unexpected turn, and again the passengers had to demand to be let out. Those who wanted the train were disappointed because the train had shut down.
I got off about three blocks from my destination. I was almost an hour late, but I could only laugh. In other large cities, I would be very anxious going through unfamiliar neighborhoods, and shocked by people honking at the police, but this is Jerusalem. I'm glad I didn't take a taxi, because they will charge double on special occasions, or more if they can get away with it. Come to think of it, one of those buses was a free ride, because the meter wasn't working.