"Horef" Means Winter

Regardless of what month the calendar says it is or when the solstice will be arriving, it became winter in Jerusalem last Wednesday. Morning dawned somewhat innocently, with sprinkles at the bus stop and a stiff wind on the walk to school. Lunchtime offered a tease in the form of only partly cloudy skies and even a brief appearance by the sun.

As the sun set in the late afternoon, though, the rain began to pour down with the darkness--that heavy, driving rain that really looks to the eye as if a thousand someones are standing on the rooftops with buckets and hoses. Everyone in Kitah Alef Ploos, my ulpan class, was miserable because it was very cold in our classroom and the skirt-wearing Orthodox women really felt the most entitled to complain.

During our mid-class break the need to learn two new vocabulary words became very apparent: brachim and ra'amim, lightnings (as they say in Hebrew) and thunders. Walking home from class I got a chance to see much lightnings and thunders up close and personal, something I definitely miss from my growing-up days in the Midwest. The sideways rain continued and all four of my shirts--layers, friends, in Jerusalem just as in San Francisco-were soaked through. Puddle-jumping went from something to be avoided to a fun game and I was reminded why wool has for quite some time been and ever will be my favorite fiber: it insulates while wet. I knew I packed these hiking socks from REI for a reason!

Twenty minutes later I arrived at our apartment to find a river flowing across our *indoor* patio and a pile of sopping shoes on the plastic deck chair next to the door. Dripping my way inside, I made it no further than the dining room before peeling off everything I was wearing and spreading it out across the floor in front of the salon. Fortunately I made it into my room and into my robe before any of my housemates caught me undressed but no matter because ten minutes later when Eva came home from class the scene repeated itself, all of standing right there in the hallway trying to get the radiator to work. You know those French girls--they're not embarrassed about anything like that! The pile of wet clothes on the floor doubled in size.

So today I was out walking and came upon the ONE, the ONLY recycled clothing store in Jerusalem (how am I getting dressed every morning in conditions like this? I actually bought a pair of pants at--gasp!--the MALL for the first time in what, probably seven or eight years?). Draw inside like a moth to a flame it took only moments for me to find a pair of brand-new, olive green leather Italian boots in my size. It was that or the black 3/4 length Doc Martens, a tough call until I realized the green ones were lined and the black ones--too big anyway--were not. I was nervous about spending the money since I have not yet gotten paid for the teaching work I've been doing and the groceries for yesterday's Thanksgiving dinner were kind of expensive, but I channeled my mother and knew she would not want me walking around with cold, wet feet. Sold, for 100 shekels.