Shalom from Jerusalem! I’ve been here about a week and it’s safe to say things have been intense but fun. It’s been great to get back to studying Torah full time, not to mention having the opportunity to improve my Hebrew on a daily basis and see some pretty cool stuff (but that’s for another post). Today is Friday, and I was going to channel my inner Jewish feminist by going to a women’s study day, but I am lazy and decided to have a more relaxed day instead, which among other things means I actually have time to write a whole blog post. As it happens, I am living in the beautiful neighbourhood of Nachlaot, right by the famous shuk (market) centered on Machane Yehudah street, and it’s there that I chose to head this morning to buy some treats for Shabbat. I’d like to give you a small taste of Jerusalem by describing the craziness that is the shuk.
I arrived in Jerusalem early last Friday afternoon. I was hot, sweaty, tired and, given the eight-hour time difference between here and the Midwest, not entirely sure what time it was and whether I should in fact be asleep. However, Shabbat was coming and I had no food, so, after a quick change of clothes and high on Israel-related adrenaline, I set off for the Shuk.
Having visited Israel several times, I know that the Shuk is a bustling and crowded place, most of all on a Friday afternoon, when Jewish Jerusalemites of all stripes are preparing for the Day of Rest. Although I was excited to explore, I was also a little apprehensive given my previous experiences. Being English, I am generally pretty useless in crowds, a trait exacerbated by my tendency towards public awkwardness. And while I intellectually knew that I had definitely managed to get around and buy things before, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I would not be assertive enough, my Hebrew would fail, and I would return to my apartment defeated, which in turn would be one more sign that I just didn’t belong here (thank you, anxiety).
Sure enough, the atmosphere at the Shuk was overwhelming. The air was filled with shouts from stallholders all around and the smells of sweet, savoury, and spicy delicacies. Bright colours flashed from mounds of spices and garishly patterned clothes. Chassidic Jews in black hats or headscarves rubbed shoulders with secular Israelis in T-shirts and tank tops and long lines of young American tourists. The streets and passageways seemed never-ending, and there was very little choice except to keep up with the one-directional flow of humanity. It was, as they say in Hebrew, a balagan. But at the same time, surrounded by heat and noise, I found the atmosphere electrifying. Here, back in the country I had missed for so long, the whole of Israeli society seemed to come together, in all its chaotic glory. So I embraced the chaos. And gradually, I managed to navigate my way through the warren of passages, take a good look at the stalls and restaurants, and even purchase fruit, salads, and pastries for Shabbat. (To be fair, this was facilitated by the stallholders, who definitely waste no time once they discover you are interested in their wares.) I returned home tired but triumphant.
I headed back the following evening and found a different kind of vibrant chaos. At night, the Shuk is filled with music, both live and recorded. The bars overflow with both Israelis and tourists, and I even saw a group of people dancing on tables! Although I reckoned drinking alone in a bar was not quite my scene, I still soaked up the atmosphere, and have returned to the Shuk nearly every evening since, either alone or with friends or family.
This morning, my second pre-Shabbat shopping expedition felt almost relaxing compared with the rush of the previous Friday afternoon. The stallholders are no less pushy, and I’m pretty sure one guy ripped me off, but I feel strangely proud that I am getting to know the local area – maybe I’m more assertive than I thought, and I might just get by fending for myself in this incredible country.
Shabbat shalom (Have a peaceful Shabbat)!
The Desert 