Day Seven: Quiet, More Shelters and a Tattooed Woman

A day to step back and breathe

Scenes from a Jerusalem shelter

Today was a slow day. A cheshbon hanefesh so to speak after a tumultuous last few days. I woke up early, did some well-needed laundry and davened Shacharit. I then went on a little walk and called a few of my Israeli friends to see how they were coping. On the whole they were doing alright. Netanel invited me to his son’s bris on Monday; Mendy told me that he’s busy as he’s ever been servicing his Chabad center; and Yaakov asked me whether I had paid attention to the HaYom Yom of the previous day.

I had not. I looked it up and saw:

This is the actual time of the "footsteps of Mashiach." It is therefore imperative for every Jew to seek his fellow's welfare - whether old or young - to inspire the other to teshuva (return), so that he will not fall out - G‑d forbid - of the community of Israel who will shortly be privileged, with G‑d's help, to experience complete redemption.

Considering the rockets and the general chaos; perhaps I am here for a reason. Well, I most certainly am here for a reason but perhaps that reason…

I then bought myself a Pesek Zman, the undisputed best kosher chocolate and I will fight anyone who disagrees. There is no such alternative answer. Pesek Zman or bust. Or now I think about it, the purple Kilks bars aren’t too bad and those Taami’s are weirdly satisfying. Well, let’s just say that I don’t rue the absence of not-cholov-yisrael in my life.

I then turned my attention to logistics. My check-out was fast approaching, and I still had no idea what the next few days would hold for me. Would I be homeless, backpacking through the streets of Jerusalem? Would I somehow get a flight out of this country in the next little while? Will my next shawarma be better than the last?

These were the big questions facing me, so I went about addressing them.

First, I reached out to my Airbnb landlords and negotiated a discounted, being Airbnb’s back, cash deal to secure my humble lodgings for a little while longer. I met David in a shady little alley a few blocks from the apartment and handed him a mixture of U.S. dollars, Euros and Shekels. I felt like a true gangster.

I then tried to figure out my options out of Israel. First, I had another look at all the coverage on flights out of the country. Twitter had no info. WhatsApp had me in circles. And the people on the streets seemed to think that it would be at least 10 days until Ben Gurion Airport resumed flights.

I was then sent a WhatsApp message about charter boats to Cyprus and got my hopes up. Turns out it was a full-on scam. I apologize to anyone I sent the link to, and I hope you didn’t believe this shady Sharona character.

I then was made aware of a boat charter to Cyprus organized by an Australian acquaintance of mine. $2,600? No thank you. I can get some lovely Airbnb’s in Israel and some memorable meals for that price. I prefer to just wait it out.

Then on to the last order of business for the day: addressing my need for a shawarma. Honestly, I don’t know why I get my hopes up. It was subpar. 5/10.

At this point, I drank an Israeli knock-off XL Red Bull thingy and somehow it and a belly full of shawarma induced me into a deep sleep and I crashed and had a nice nap.

Upon awakening, I made my way to the shuk, fielded a phone call from a cash advance friend of mine, bumped into said cash advance friend’s brother and was immediately caught up in a whirlwind of events.

First, I found myself volunteering to write an ‘About Us’ page for a new shul. Then, the sirens rang out again, calling all Jerusalemites to our nearest shelter. This one was large, spacious and full of other people I knew. There was Eli, Benjamin; My cousin Mendel and his family; my cousin Yisrael New. It was interesting within the shelter.

The testosterone-fueled men and their game of pool

There was a woman walking around and pouring people cups of water and then getting upset when most people rejected her. Like, seriously woman, I don’t want your water! Don’t take it so personally. She also weirdly insisted on offering the water in French. Remember, we’re in Israel, the average person either speaks Hebrew or English. Since when did French enter the conversation?

The youth were playing a game of pool in the back room, the balls clinking on the ground as each man—under the watchful gazes of a gaggle of women beside them—tried hard to emasculate the next, succeeding only in proving they suck at pool.

There was also a group of four hippie looking women, who eyed me up and down. I was taking a video, and my camera was pointed straight at them though, so I can’t really blame them.

The sirens ended and I made my way out of the shelter and joined my cousin on the walk back to humanity. On the way, we heard some trance music coming from a nearby building and he was reminded that he knew the source of the music. It was his friend’s house, and his friend was celebrating his engagement. What says ‘engagement’ more than trance music loud enough to take out an incoming missile.

We decided to go in and wish mazal tov to the new couple and what transpires next was my first real quintessential Israel experience. The kind I got used to seeing in Migdal and had long forgotten the potential for.

When we walked in, there were five people seated around a small table in a courtyard between a few old Jerusalem buildings. We had to duck our heads to get inside. I’m not a particularly tall man—five foot nine on a regular day; five foot ten on a good day; six foot flat according to my license; and a little over six foot to any shadchanim asking—so that’s saying something.

The courtyard was interesting in its own right. In one corner was a jacuzzi that looked like it was ripped out of a yacht and dumped unceremoniously in this corner. It also wasn’t attached to anything. So, was it there for the aesthetic? Did someone actually use it?

Either way, there was also a little table in the middle with a platter of raw salmon (not lox, just a fillet of raw salmon with chunks taken out of it), as well as an overflowing ashtray, four bottles of semi-sweet wine, and a few blocks of cheese. It was a little odd.

Two of the five people got up to allow for me and my cousin to sit. One of them moved to perch himself on the edge of the jacuzzi. Then, the chosson asked my cousin to share some words of Torah.

My cousin started to speak of the meraglim, of their mistake and how their mistake is a lesson for marriage: That just as the meraglim wanted to remain secluded from the world, thinking that entrance into Eretz Yisrael would occupied with the mundane activities of ordinary life, no time or energy would remain to reflect on Hashem’s greatness and attain high levels of spirituality.

So too, a young, about-to-be-married-couple may think that they will be consumed by the mundane aspects of married life and caring for a partner.

But, my cousin said, just as Calev let them know that not only won’t the land consume them, but they have the opportunity to use it for holiness, so too a married couple can use the occupation for good.

Devar Torah over. You may wonder why I took the time to elucidate a few paragraphs worth of inspiration, but I say this because the whole time my cousin spoke, the woman next to him interrupted. At some point, when my cousin mentioned the Rebbe and the chosson and kallah pointed to the picture of the Rebbe that smiled down on us from atop the jacuzzi, the woman scoffed and said she hated… we didn’t let her finish that sentence.

The woman in question claimed to have been brought up a Lubavitcher, before casting her lot in with the “Na Nachs.” She also bore tattoos on both forearms. On her right forearms was what looked like an amulet. On the left forearm was a yin and yang symbol, stacked on top of some Japanese writing which itself was on top of some Hebrew writing.

This woman challenged each of my cousin’s words and we couldn’t get out of there quick enough. Not before she told me about Lilith and how she was the primordial woman and how she represents the true expression of the female spirit and how if she wanted to, she could kick a wall, but that her foot would break if she did therefore, she didn’t.

Yeh, strange.

Oh wait! Before we left, the chosson told us of his dream the previous week where he was sitting in his Jacuzzi and welcomed a visit from the Baba Sali who gave him answers to all of his life’s questions. Then the kallah apologized for her friend and told us she owes everything to Chabad and the Rebbe.

“There was a certain point where I thought that the only good Jews, were Chabad Jews.”

Nachas.

I made my way home, bought a falafel (5/10) and bought a Pesek Zman for tomorrow morning. That’s where I leave you folks! From my apartment. Still a little stuck, but loving every second of it. Thanks for tuning in for day 7! You’ve lasted a whole week with me. See you tomorrow!