Now I'm sitting in my new den (this one has a window!) looking at the Haitian painting the Duke gave to us, which I hung on the only hook currently in the wall. We're only 50 miles away from Amman but it feels like a different universe.
We arrived in the afternoon after the usual chaotic border process, and the dwarves headed straight for the sandpit where they stayed for an hour, in a shard of sunlight, happily filling buckets and digging.
The house itself is somewhere the likes of which I never imagined I would have the chance to live. It has elegant, rectangular proportions, with high ceilings, scruffy paintwork, and windows which look French. There is a big open hall which we use as a sitting room and dining room, from which the other rooms lead off. The yard surrounding the house has olive, pomegranate and clementine trees and but for the perusing cats, is an entirely private bubble only a few metres away from a busy street.
J and I spent the evening drinking wine we'd brought with us, and beginning the nesting process, which we're getting fairly good at now. This is the 7th time J and I have settled in a new place, in our 7 year marriage - and we know now that doing it together with some good tunes, and a few drinks is the way to enjoy it most fully. We were up until about 1am sorting, rearranging and unpacking. The main thing we are both lamenting, is the fact that we live in this amazing place, yet none of our wonderful new Jordanian friends can easily come to visit us here. It feels even further away as a result.
The following morning I nipped out for some milk feeling relieved I hadn't set out with a dwarf in a buggy as the pavements are craggy and un-negotiable on anything but the feet. The streets were busier than the day before, since our area is predominantly Muslim, the quiet day is Friday. It's almost impossible to get a feeling for what the place is exactly. In some respects it feels like normal Arab life with teenagers wandering to school; headscarved ladies in their long 'manteau' coats shopping or wandering to university; a man on the corner with a little cart shouting: 'CaaaaaEk!'(rounds of sesame bread) like the one outside our flat in Amman; shops selling shimmering gowns or diamante trainers; hummus, felafel and kebab shops and newsagents. In other respects, it makes you wonder where you really are. The huge metal wheelie bins overloaded and spilling out their foul insides, sitting in a sea of rubbish that either never made it to the bin, or has been picked through and thrown out of it; the graffiti saying: 'Free Gaza', Allahuakbar, Stop the settlements; the plots of unkempt land which are cordoned off, covered in Hebrew signs or sporting a flag of the Star of David. In one of the main shopping streets a dilapidated Ottoman building with broken windows stands completely empty. Opposite it is an immaculate structure which houses a conservatory of music. You wonder how each could face the other without wondering why the other is there. I wonder if 3 years will be long enough to answer all these questions. Having just unravelled a bit of Jordan, through having wonderful and knowledgeable friends there - I wonder who in this city will be the ones to help us unravel this place.
I made it to a shop which sold milk. At least it looked like milk, though the only thing I could read on the label was 4.5%, and I had no idea what this referred to. The yoghurt also had a Hebrew label, but the man in the shop was busy explaining in Arabic to a lady at the till, which packet of Spanish biscuits was the best for diets. One said 'sin azucar' and the other 'sin gluten'. He didn't know what gluten free meant or whether this would be good for weight loss, and my Arabic didn't stretch far enough to explain. I spent 50 Israeli Sheckels (about £10) on 2 big bottles of milk and and a selection of a few different yoghurts hoping the dwarves might at least like one of them.
They didn't, but J and St Grace did, and after breakfast we went out altogether to wander our immediate area. The dwarves whined for the full hour walk. No one walks in Amman, and they've subsequently forgotten how, but I am so happy to be back in a city where you can stride out from the front door. We bought some felafel, hummus and flatbread from the baker, and a couple of ice creams from a sticky little freezer around the back which the Lozenge inevitably sniffed out.
As we walked, or should I say, staggered, dragging two unwilling pilgrims. I wondered how St Grace would carve a life out for herself here as it feels so far from Jordan where she had already made her home. Plus she discovered on Friday that the only Sri Lankan she knows here lives in Tel Aviv not Jerusalem. I needn't have worried. With the kind of serendipity that only happens to St Grace, we were just about to get in the car to find a park when along walked an elderly Sri Lankan lady. We all practically pounced on her, and St Grace happily chatted in Sinhalese with her for a few minutes. She told us there was another Sri Lankan girl who lives opposite, who looks after two elderly ladies. For the rest of the afternoon Rashimi and St Grace played spot the Sri Lankan from the car. We saw about 5 and both St Grace and Rashimi can spot them from a distance of 500 metres it seems.
We found a park with a high tech playground, full of Jewish families as it was the sabbath. It was as far from our unkempt little district as another country. There were an amazing array of different nationalities: Tibet, Russia, Ukraine, Central Asia, the USA, all in the same kind of dress - black tights, black skirts for the women and some kind of a cap for the men and boys - of differing colours and shapes depending on the origin of the wearer.
The dwarves screeched with excitement when they saw a huge hill covered in grass, with a small stream at the bottom and we ran and ran and ran all afternoon. While we sat watching them play on a post-modern looking see-saw, a lady asked us if we spoke Hebrew and invited us and some others to join her shabbat party for children. We walked by on our way out and they were all sitting in a semi circle reciting lines from the Torah.
The dwarves are sharing a bedroom and aren't getting their full quota of sleep, so we put them into bed a bit earlier, and J and I found a bar in a little side street where we let our hair down, rather too much, (again) before coming back home cooking mushrooms and halloumi which were the only things left in the fridge.
Today is St Grace's day off, and the Sri Lankan lady we met yesterday wasn't answering her phone. We told Grace to go and buzz the house opposite to see if the other lady was about. She looked a bit nervous and said: 'But what if they speak blablublablu.. to me.' We laughed and reminded her she could use her fluent Arabic since we are in the Arab part of Jerusalem. Back she went, and Mariana the Sri Lankan was just leaving the house for her day off. In record time, St Grace was in her clothes and off for her first day out, without us in tow. I bet she was a little bit relieved. And I was too, not only because I want her to feel at home here. But also because I know how what a vital source of good sense and knowledge she will be once she starts to find her way around.
Meanwhile we found a supermarket where we were as blind as I had been in the little shop yesterday morning, with all the Hebrew writing. I can't believe we've spent so long learning Arabic. And the prices were as bad as Chad…With two dwarves and two trolleys we were the only people in the supermarket. The Lozenge's wailing echoed around the aisles after I said we didn't need more Cheerios, and Rashimi ran around shrieking like a harridan with four packets of jam filled croissants squished under each arm. Perhaps there was a reason why the aisles were empty. I managed to fob them off with a chocolate Santa each which I found in the reduced section. J and I came round a corner with our individual trolleys and bumped straight into one another. 'Let's get the hell out', he laughed. I couldn't have made it faster to the check out myself. And home we came with £150 worth of nothing much other than chick peas, yet more ice creams (Hello Kitty this time), the remains of the packet of the chocolate Santas, some ant spray and the biggest roll of knock down budget price kitchen roll I have ever seen, let alone bought. It's the size of the ones you get in the garage to wipe your hands on.
We got back home and the Lozenge said: 'I want to go back to Jordan'.
And Rashimi said: 'I want ham.'
J and I opened another beer.
We arrived in the afternoon after the usual chaotic border process, and the dwarves headed straight for the sandpit where they stayed for an hour, in a shard of sunlight, happily filling buckets and digging.
The house itself is somewhere the likes of which I never imagined I would have the chance to live. It has elegant, rectangular proportions, with high ceilings, scruffy paintwork, and windows which look French. There is a big open hall which we use as a sitting room and dining room, from which the other rooms lead off. The yard surrounding the house has olive, pomegranate and clementine trees and but for the perusing cats, is an entirely private bubble only a few metres away from a busy street.
J and I spent the evening drinking wine we'd brought with us, and beginning the nesting process, which we're getting fairly good at now. This is the 7th time J and I have settled in a new place, in our 7 year marriage - and we know now that doing it together with some good tunes, and a few drinks is the way to enjoy it most fully. We were up until about 1am sorting, rearranging and unpacking. The main thing we are both lamenting, is the fact that we live in this amazing place, yet none of our wonderful new Jordanian friends can easily come to visit us here. It feels even further away as a result.
The following morning I nipped out for some milk feeling relieved I hadn't set out with a dwarf in a buggy as the pavements are craggy and un-negotiable on anything but the feet. The streets were busier than the day before, since our area is predominantly Muslim, the quiet day is Friday. It's almost impossible to get a feeling for what the place is exactly. In some respects it feels like normal Arab life with teenagers wandering to school; headscarved ladies in their long 'manteau' coats shopping or wandering to university; a man on the corner with a little cart shouting: 'CaaaaaEk!'(rounds of sesame bread) like the one outside our flat in Amman; shops selling shimmering gowns or diamante trainers; hummus, felafel and kebab shops and newsagents. In other respects, it makes you wonder where you really are. The huge metal wheelie bins overloaded and spilling out their foul insides, sitting in a sea of rubbish that either never made it to the bin, or has been picked through and thrown out of it; the graffiti saying: 'Free Gaza', Allahuakbar, Stop the settlements; the plots of unkempt land which are cordoned off, covered in Hebrew signs or sporting a flag of the Star of David. In one of the main shopping streets a dilapidated Ottoman building with broken windows stands completely empty. Opposite it is an immaculate structure which houses a conservatory of music. You wonder how each could face the other without wondering why the other is there. I wonder if 3 years will be long enough to answer all these questions. Having just unravelled a bit of Jordan, through having wonderful and knowledgeable friends there - I wonder who in this city will be the ones to help us unravel this place.
I made it to a shop which sold milk. At least it looked like milk, though the only thing I could read on the label was 4.5%, and I had no idea what this referred to. The yoghurt also had a Hebrew label, but the man in the shop was busy explaining in Arabic to a lady at the till, which packet of Spanish biscuits was the best for diets. One said 'sin azucar' and the other 'sin gluten'. He didn't know what gluten free meant or whether this would be good for weight loss, and my Arabic didn't stretch far enough to explain. I spent 50 Israeli Sheckels (about £10) on 2 big bottles of milk and and a selection of a few different yoghurts hoping the dwarves might at least like one of them.
They didn't, but J and St Grace did, and after breakfast we went out altogether to wander our immediate area. The dwarves whined for the full hour walk. No one walks in Amman, and they've subsequently forgotten how, but I am so happy to be back in a city where you can stride out from the front door. We bought some felafel, hummus and flatbread from the baker, and a couple of ice creams from a sticky little freezer around the back which the Lozenge inevitably sniffed out.
As we walked, or should I say, staggered, dragging two unwilling pilgrims. I wondered how St Grace would carve a life out for herself here as it feels so far from Jordan where she had already made her home. Plus she discovered on Friday that the only Sri Lankan she knows here lives in Tel Aviv not Jerusalem. I needn't have worried. With the kind of serendipity that only happens to St Grace, we were just about to get in the car to find a park when along walked an elderly Sri Lankan lady. We all practically pounced on her, and St Grace happily chatted in Sinhalese with her for a few minutes. She told us there was another Sri Lankan girl who lives opposite, who looks after two elderly ladies. For the rest of the afternoon Rashimi and St Grace played spot the Sri Lankan from the car. We saw about 5 and both St Grace and Rashimi can spot them from a distance of 500 metres it seems.
We found a park with a high tech playground, full of Jewish families as it was the sabbath. It was as far from our unkempt little district as another country. There were an amazing array of different nationalities: Tibet, Russia, Ukraine, Central Asia, the USA, all in the same kind of dress - black tights, black skirts for the women and some kind of a cap for the men and boys - of differing colours and shapes depending on the origin of the wearer.
The dwarves screeched with excitement when they saw a huge hill covered in grass, with a small stream at the bottom and we ran and ran and ran all afternoon. While we sat watching them play on a post-modern looking see-saw, a lady asked us if we spoke Hebrew and invited us and some others to join her shabbat party for children. We walked by on our way out and they were all sitting in a semi circle reciting lines from the Torah.
The dwarves are sharing a bedroom and aren't getting their full quota of sleep, so we put them into bed a bit earlier, and J and I found a bar in a little side street where we let our hair down, rather too much, (again) before coming back home cooking mushrooms and halloumi which were the only things left in the fridge.
Today is St Grace's day off, and the Sri Lankan lady we met yesterday wasn't answering her phone. We told Grace to go and buzz the house opposite to see if the other lady was about. She looked a bit nervous and said: 'But what if they speak blablublablu.. to me.' We laughed and reminded her she could use her fluent Arabic since we are in the Arab part of Jerusalem. Back she went, and Mariana the Sri Lankan was just leaving the house for her day off. In record time, St Grace was in her clothes and off for her first day out, without us in tow. I bet she was a little bit relieved. And I was too, not only because I want her to feel at home here. But also because I know how what a vital source of good sense and knowledge she will be once she starts to find her way around.
Meanwhile we found a supermarket where we were as blind as I had been in the little shop yesterday morning, with all the Hebrew writing. I can't believe we've spent so long learning Arabic. And the prices were as bad as Chad…With two dwarves and two trolleys we were the only people in the supermarket. The Lozenge's wailing echoed around the aisles after I said we didn't need more Cheerios, and Rashimi ran around shrieking like a harridan with four packets of jam filled croissants squished under each arm. Perhaps there was a reason why the aisles were empty. I managed to fob them off with a chocolate Santa each which I found in the reduced section. J and I came round a corner with our individual trolleys and bumped straight into one another. 'Let's get the hell out', he laughed. I couldn't have made it faster to the check out myself. And home we came with £150 worth of nothing much other than chick peas, yet more ice creams (Hello Kitty this time), the remains of the packet of the chocolate Santas, some ant spray and the biggest roll of knock down budget price kitchen roll I have ever seen, let alone bought. It's the size of the ones you get in the garage to wipe your hands on.
We got back home and the Lozenge said: 'I want to go back to Jordan'.
And Rashimi said: 'I want ham.'
J and I opened another beer.
You seem to be located in east Jerusalem and the nearby Jewish neighborhoods are that of ultra-orthodox Jews.
ReplyDeleteSo many other parts to explore:
1. the City center - Jaffa street and the area.
2. Independence park, Bell garden, Saker park
3. For kids - the Israel museum - there's a section there for kids.
4. The science museum for kids.
5. The birds observatory.
6. Shopping - Mamilla mall, Malcha mall.
7. Cheap groceries at Rami Levi's supermarkets in Talpiyot industrial area
8. Check out Jaffa gate area and entrance to the old city.
9. Check out the German colony, Yemin Moshe, Mishkanot Sha'ananim, Talbieya, Rehavia, Nahlaot neighborhoods.
10. The Jerusalem cinematheque. Open on Shabbat.
11. The first train compound for kids as well and restaurants. Open on Shabbat.
And so much more.
The Jerusalem municipality website has a lot of info as well.