In my last post, we had walked down Agrippas, and were waiting for the bus at the bus stop. So, we continue from there.
It’s funny how before I started this series, I never realized how much went on while waiting for a bus. I just kind of made sure to keep my spot in the line, jiggled my foot, watched the time, and waited for the bus to come, planning how I would get a seat, and where I would put the stroller.
Now that I am posting it, I realize that there are a lot of things that I don’t think about anymore, because I started considering them to be part of everyday life. Maybe that’s what changed since I made aliya (moved to Israel): I started seeing things as ordinary, everyday things, instead of special moments to be savored and remembered, of a year that will never happen again. But the truth is, no year, and no day, will ever happen again. I am so worried about what-ifs, and obsessive about what I need to do and where I need to be, that I often forget to just be in the moment.
The exception is when I am at home with Shlomo. For some reason, staying home with him has relaxed me, and de-stressed me, in a lot of ways. Now, I understand why: I don’t [usually] think about where I need to be, what I need to do, and worry obsessively, when we are at home, playing. Sure, I have to work, but I know, and expect, that I will be interrupted, and I try to work when he is either napping, sleeping, or playing happily by himself. When he wants to play, I try to be available. After all, that’s why I made this decision, right?
Here, I am standing at the bus stop. Obviously, you can’t see me, because I’m the one holding the camera. I stand a little bit up from the stop, since I have a stroller. Strollers board the bus from the first set (or only set, depending on the bus’s size) of rear doors. This prevents the stroller from taking up place in the line. It also, usually, allows a quick-thinking, quick-acting mother to save herself, and child/husband, a seat. If the bus is too full, I will at least have a place to stand. And standing on a bus, with a baby or toddler in your arms, is a very good way to guilt someone into giving you a seat.
The other side of the street. You can see a brand-new bus going in the opposite direction, trailing behind some cars. Actually, Yitchak says that the more buses on a street, the slower traffic goes, and the more private cars, the faster. He believes this to be true because buses stop, and let people off, at every bus stop, and are also larger, heavier, and slower than private cars. I disagree, because I think private cars are more likely to have slowpoke, rude drivers. I have only met one nasty bus driver in my entire five-year, bus-taking career – and he was a Muslim, and got fired after he harassed too many people. All the bus drivers here are nice. Some have more patience than others, but they are all really nice.
The store right beside the bus stop.
A big building across the street that recently got decorated. You can see the decorations above the parking signs, on the pillars. Here, it’s no big deal: this is typical of Israelis, and of Israel. It looks pretty, so why not? When I first saw it, though, a few weeks ago, it sparked the teeny-tiny American tourist in me.
A bus came (not mine), and two women stood huddled over their whatever-you-call-it-type cell phones. You can see the reflection of some people on the sidewalk, in the bus’s windows.
The bus passed . . .
More buses going in the other direction . . .
The sky, which I couldn’t help photographing because you can see so much from where I was standing: The cranes to the left, on the next main street over; in the far right background, the pink-and-blue building that is the Central Bus Station; the top of the big “string” bridge by the entrance to the city; and, of course, the mountains and trees that are part of what make up Jerusalem.
And here comes a line of buses. I don’t think one of them was mine; I think mine came just after this bunch.
That’s all for now, folks. The next post, which is the last in this batch, before I return to regular post-writing, will be after I get on the bus. I put my camera away after taking these pictures, so that I’d have my hands free to board the bus that I suspected would come soon (it did). And, I took the next batch while I was on a moving bus, looking out the window. So, I can’t promise the same quality.