Surreality

Three unusual things happened today:

1) I had a playdate at 3:30 with Judy, my ulpan chevruta (Hebrew class study partner), in the library at HUC on King David Street--somewhere that brings up a variety of very mixed feelings for me in the first place. While waiting for her in the commonly, famously known "comfortable chairs" at the back of the first floor behind the staircase I looked up for no reason at all and saw, seated directly in front of me, Aeli--my amazing housemate from last summer. I went and sat down with him and I don't know who was more disoriented when he looked up from the practice LSAT he was taking--him or me. We spoke only briefly because Judy and Nancy arrived, but for long enough that he explained why he is here in Jerusalem and not Nepal as he was planning to be for the exact dates I was to be in Israel and I explained what I've been doing for the past six and a half weeks. We might go have coffee sometime, I don't know. I have walked past his, our, apartment countless times since I have been here. I adore him. It is an understatement to say that this encounter with him significantly shifts my relationship to the time I am spending here. Really.

2) Walking home from ulpan I found Keren HaYesod, the large main street leading downtown, blocked by countless officers with automatic weapons. This is not entirely uncommon here but I could tell from their uniforms that these men were not police but rather were in the army which seemed somewhat unusual. I made my way through the makeshift checkpoint in the road and towards Paris Square, the enormous traffic circle a stone's throw from the Prime Minister's residence where Keren HaYesod, Azza, Gershon Agron, Rambam, and King George all meet. The streets were closed in every direction and full to overflowing with people holding signs and placards, listening to a man on a stage whose image was being projected on a massive screen above the square. Being only in Kitah Alef Ploos, I felt very embarrassed in my confusion and inability to understand what this massive assembly of people represented. I tried to read every banner I passed as I pressed on through the crowd towards Rambam Street but could only identify one word, and only that because Ido taught it to me when we saw it writ large as graffiti on a trash bin while out for a walk one night: OLMERT. Annapolis is far away, but close to everyone's hearts here right now.

3) Finally making the 15-minute walk home in just under half an hour, I unlocked the door to the apartment to find the oven turned up full blast and the Vampires in the kitchen hard at work on their latest magnificent concoction, all the while conversing passionately in a language it took me a moment to even realize I could not immediately identify. Seeing the look of confusion on my face as she raced past into the bedroom to consult a cookbook, Eva offered this as explanation: "Nous parlons Francais dans notre maison cette semaine!" We are speaking French in our house this week. Of course we are. As the common Hebrew expression asks, "Lama lo?" Why not?