Second, black and white are no longer considered travel chic colors, much to my chagrin. Instead of blending in with the on-the-go East Coast crowd, I stuck out like a sore thumb as I apparently resembled a nun (Benedictine is my guess) when my hood was up.
Sister Mary Gwynedd stepping in for Sister Mary Clarence.
“This turns into a nun's bar, I'm outta here.”
Once we arrived in Tel Aviv everything seemed pretty standard in terms of international travel. Walk a ridiculously long distance from your plane to passport control, proceed to baggage claim and retrieve your personal mountain of luggage (not to be confused with Mr. So-and-So’s Mount of Oigos to your left), pass through customs (one difference here - I have never been sung to, by a customs agent as I entered their country...I can no longer say that) and join the throng of humanity that gathers around the giant international arrivals corral. This is where I began to notice differences. When you pick someone up at the airport in Tel Aviv and you have something to tell them, from “Hello!” to “I love you!” and everything in between, you say it with balloons.
By Mom’s count, the most popular balloon was the Smiley Face “Welcome/Hebrew version of welcome, I assume” closely followed by the classic Red Shiney Heart (I felt like using capitals).
My personal favorites were SpongeBob with accordian-like legs, the giant yellow Hummer, and Dora the Explorer (yes Corey, Dora is currently exploring the Holy Land with me).
After we navigated through the people and their balloons (no I am NOT jealous that I left the airport sans balloon...okay, maybe just a little jealous) and made it onto the minibus, which has a special name but I cannot remember and thus it has no importance in this post, we enjoyed the scenic ride into Jerusalem.
We arrived at Notre Dame, our hotel for the night, which is right across the street from the New Gate in the Old City wall, and skibbled up to our rooms and rotated through the showers. This was the view from our room.
You can kind of see the Old City Wall, not to be confused with The Wall (the Western Wall, the Wailing Wall), but now that I look at the image again, you really have to know what you’re looking for to see it. It’s harder to find than Waldo.
C and I greeted the next day with cookie feast (we’d like to thank the generous Cookie Foundation Grant provided by Mama and Corky, Inc. for making that possible), accompanied by a fine luke warm bottle of San Pelligrino...at 4:30 in the morning (clearly we have trouble adjusting to time changes). To while away the hours before our fair mother arose I began knitting while C read aloud from Frommer’s Guide to Israel. Our chosen topic was the history of Jerusalem, one of the oldest continually inhabited cities in the history of the world (what is the oldest contiually inhabited city? - sure I could look it up online, but this is more fun, it’s like a discussion topic for comments. Crazy old cities, discuss.) Later, after a legitimate breakfast, we grabbed two cabs (one for us, one for our luggage) and flew through the deserted streets to the guest house. The caretaker of the guest house, who is extremely nice and super helpful, greeted us with open arms and the keys and warned us not to eat anything in the refrigerators as the apartment had been without power for one week. Ah yes, you sense it don’t you, dear Reader, the beginnings of a fantastical tale about to unfold.
Such a story deserves it’s own paragraph break. We entered the apartment, immediately forgetting what our informative new friend had told us...until we entered the kitchen. Such a stench cannot be described, well actually, it should not be described. Just imagine the worst thing you have ever smelled and multipy by two because there were, that’s right, you guessed it, TWO FRIDGES!
(Sorry, even though you had no idea it occurred I was distracted from my writing by what I thought was a parade coming down our street but was in fact a very loud piece of machinery operated by one man and some weird whistling noises which I choose to attribute to birds, or electrical wires, or something equally exotic/interesting. The parade thing could have happened though - the people on the corner had a huge party last night and it’s feasible that they would need to have a parade to top their last shindig.)
Back to the matter at hand, or nose, the refrigerators which were refrigerating things that would be better off in the dumpster up the street.
(Again, my deepest apologies, mom and I just spent 40 minutes and 17 seconds on Skype with AT&T making our phones international...and I didn’t figure out that I could still type in a word document while on hold with skype. It is unforgivable that I neglect you, dearest and most faithful Reader.)
Once again, we return to the violent assault on the olfactory senses of the Ladies R. We opened the first and smaller fridge and immediately began throwing things away, not even looking to see what they were because our first glance assured us that a colony of maggots had moved into town. Gil Grissom would be thrilled, we were not. Our insect friends had also moved into the freezer and the vents all over the fridge. Again, I feel no need to describe the scene, just know that it was disgusting, incredibly disgusting. Instead of playing the fridges man-to-man, we, the expansion team of the R Family Flying Salmon Circus, worked out a zone defense. C emptied and scoured the fridges, Mom scraped and sanitized all of the shelves (more on that later), and I provided support in the form of drying, encouraging, running garbage up the hill to the dumpster, and setting up fans in such a way that we sucked in fresh air and pushed out the gross stuff (I wanted to say fetid there but it didn’t seem to fit...and was a little too fancy for my taste right now.) Once everything was cleared out, C came up with the brillant plan of putting candles in the refrigerators to burn off the yuckiness (my taste is decidely not fancy and leaning more towards the 5-year-old level).
And that is how Our Lady of the Blessed Refrigerator came to be.
Unfortunately, all of our efforts to date have not rid the smaller refrigerator of its offensive perfume. Most likely we will soon give up hope and move it out onto the back stairs, where it can harm us no more.
Now, I also mentioned a reclining nude, actually THE Reclining Nude. I also wrote that I had more information concerning Mom’s part in the zone...yes, the two tales are intertwined. The shelves, drawers, and egg holders were too great in number and size to wash in the sink, so Mom opted to clean them in the bathtub of the tiny bathroom off the kitchen. To avoid drenching her fetching (ooooooo...that’s at least 7th grade level wordage) ensemble (well now I’m just showing off), she stripped to her undergarments. Some might refer to her actions as those of a hussy (I certainly hope not for that is my mother you are speaking of and I do not take kindly to any comments that might tarnish her reputation. In essence, thems fightin’ words...), but she preserved her modesty by donning a lavender gingham apron. After slaving in a hot bathroom which lacked any kind of air circulation, Mom decided it would be a good idea to take a rest on the bed...before she passed out from heat stroke or the noxious fumes that were swirling around the bathroom. C and I could not contain our admiration for the fine outfit she had created for herself and the pose she struck upon the chaise...I mean mattress (think odalisque, but waaaaaaaay more lady like and covered up). Such an image was too inspiring for a meager photograph and must instead be recorded on canvas, and so you must wait, indefinitely, for a visual aide. Mom informed us that in college she was nicknamed the Reclining Nude. This refers to a pose that she would often take, not the possibility that my mother attended classes in a prone position completely unclothed.
And there you have it folks, the end of my first full day in the Holy Land, and the end of my patience in writing this post (I’ve been at it for nearly two hours I think...over two if we count time spent with AT&T). Remember your discussion topic for next week class and enjoy this parting picture of the neighbor’s party last night. A party so raucus I thought it conceivable they were having a parade (with elephants) in the early evening today. (actually, I can’t seem to load the picture right now but I liked my description too much to erase it...I’ll show you the picture tomorrow)
Preview - Chapter 4: The Neverending Dessert Tray and the First Day of School
