Lost & Found

Once again I took my breakfast at the Prima's Israeli buffet accompanied by sweet music from the Piano.  Having a question about directions, I approached two men, who, as luck would have it, were JNF employees.  Ira worked for JNF in NYC and Gadi worked for the JNF in Israel.  They were tremendously helpful, and gave me their phone numbers, if I should have any problems during my stay.

I went back to the room and gathered up my things.  I didn't realize how heavy my suitcase was until I brought it downstairs for check-out.  Having a carry-on didn't help matters either.  Happily for me the Prima Royale agreed to store my bags while I hiked around Jerusalem.

Finally on my own after 10 days of being attached to a group was liberating and frightening.  Any screw-ups were on my shoulders and the only one to keep me on schedule was me. With that and a back-pack of necessities and a comfy pair of mocassions, I emerged from the Prima and walked one block to Keren Hayesod, crossed the street and hailed a taxi.

It seems my driver was too anxious to put another fare on his meter when he let me in at a "No Loading Zone" and a policeman immediately pulled us over.  I was nervous wandering if somehow I would be charged for his ineptness.  I stayed in the taxi while the policeman reviewed the drivers papers and wrote the ticket.  The driver took it with ease, and didn't mention the ticket when he got back in the cab.

I was going to Hadassah-Hebrew University Medical Center at Ein Kerem to visit the Chapel that contained the famous Chagall windows.  In 1912 Hernrietta Szold founded Hadassah as an American Women's Zionist Organization.  Almost 100 years later Hadassah has become a household word in the Jewish-American community.  The first Hadassah Hospital was built on Mt. Scopus in East Jerusalem, but following the 1948 War, Israel was cut-off from Mt. Scopus which fell under Jordanian control.  Hadassah moved the Hospital and Hebrew University to Ein Kerem in western Jerusalem.  The Mt. Scopus Campus of Hebrew University & Hadassah Hospital re-opened in 1967 when Israel reunified Jerusalem.

Many Jewish-American women grew up with mothers and grandmothers, who were members of Hadassah.  My grandmother belonged to many Jewish women's organizations that focused on Zionist activity, such as:  Youth Aliyah, Mizrahi Women, B'nai Brith, & Jewish National Fund.  But Hadassah was the one that remained dearest to her heart.  She served in many capacities including the Presidency of her local Hadassah Chapter several times (New Haven, CT) from the 1930's up to her death in 1957.  In those years Hadassah Chapters across America were raising funds necessary to build the hospital which today has become a world renowned medical center.  My family takes great pride in the work done by my grandmother and the thousands and thousands of women like her.  I knew that if I ever came to Jerusalem, Hadassah Hospital would be the first place I'd go.

Like everywhere in Israel one must go through security before entering the Hadassah Medical Center.  There were signs everywhere (in Hebrew & English) directing visitors to the Chapel.  After paying a small fee, I joined a tour group from Michigan that had just arrived.  We entered the rectangular chapel made of Jerusalem stone.  Chairs are laid out on 3 or 4 levels in the 4 sections of the synagogue.  The ark is decorated in a bridal like gold and white talit cover.  On the upper portions of the walls, almost to the ceiling are the stained glass windows (3 on each side) designed by Marc Chagall that depict the 12 Tribes of Israel:  Reuben; Simeon; Levi; Judah; Zebulon; Issachar; Dan; Gad; Asher; Naphtali; Joseph; and Benjamin.  Within each windows are symbols that represent the particular tribe.  Each window has biblical and historical images, as well as personal references to Chagall's life.  During the war of '67 there was some damage to the windows.  When informed of this, Chagall is to have said "you fight the war, and I will tend to the windows".  The windows were repaired, although a small imperfection was left in memory of the war.

Following the presentation by the tour guide in the chapel, I took myself into the office to inquire about a very old pin which belonged to my grandmother.  I understood from my Mother that the pin was given to my grandmother in recognition for her efforts on behalf of Hadassah Hospital.  The pin is stamped "Palestine" on the back as it was made prior to 1948.  It is a oval silver disc with with half-a-dozen rings of small domes all around it, culmunating in one large dome in the center.  To look at it, one is reminded immediately of the skyline of Jerusalem.  Although the office staff looked they could not help me decipher its origins.  The office at Hadassah Hospital does keep track of individual donors, but donations made by Hadassah Chapters are not available there.

Outside the hospital, I ran into Jean & Joan, (the twin sisters from Ohio) from my Mission. Jean took a snapshot of me getting into my taxi.

I shared this taxi with a religious young woman and her daughter.  The little girl looked at me quite curiously.  As my Hebrew is non-existant, I could only say "Shalom Motek" (Hello Sweetie) when she sat down next to me.  She leaned over and peered at my map, which I gestured to and said "Yerushalyim".  Sadly, my jeans and t-shirt clearly marked me as secular and it was obvious from her demeanor that the little girl's mother preferred that I not speak to her child, so I merely smiled and she did too.

The taxi dropped me at Mt. Herzl, where famous Israelis & Zionists are laid to rest. It was chilly and overcast that day, as I wondered down the tree-lined paths with the map I received at the front-gate.  The map wasn't clear and the signs marking the path didn't help either.  I backtracked a number of times until I came to a stadium and parade grounds.

On and around the stadium grounds were Israeli soldiers who apparently were on practice manuevers.  They had pitched some tents and set up port-o-potties in the area, as well as a mess tent and snack bar.

I walked in a semi-circle around the stadium and then turned off into one of the burial areas.  In the first burial area were noted leaders of the Zionists cause.  In the next area were Presidents and Prime Ministers.  The map did not list the graves individually, and my Hebrew is just enough to read the name on the stones, so I was quite surprised and emotional when I came upon the graves of Levi Eshkol, Yitzah & Leah Rabin, and Golda Meir.  I was all alone, except for a man doing some survey work, so I was able to linger and place a stone on each grave.  I felt my throat closing and tears coming to my eyes when I stood next to Golda's grave, as I thought about the life of this splendid human being who had devoted herself body and soul to the Jewish people.  As with Ben Gurion the week prior, I felt a strong affection akin to that of a grandmother toward Golda.  It is a source of pride to my mother, that her own mother had met with Golda Meir, during one of Golda's trips to America where she solicited support for the fledgling Jewish State.

A few feet from Golda was the resting place of Teddy Kollek, the long-time mayor of Jerusalem, who was renowned throughout the world for renewing Jerusalem following the reunification in 1967.  Kollek's tomb was decorated with a number of wreaths the day I was there indicating it had been honored by recent visiting dignataries.  I think it may have been the German delegation, as the German Prime Minister had been in Israel the few days prior.

I wound my way back to the stadium and parade grounds on which a regiment of Israeli soldiers were finishing inspection.  Directly behind the field was a band shelter on which a group of school children were gathered.  In front of the band shelter surrounded by stones was Herzl's Tomb.  It is an immense granite stone with only the name "Herzl" in Hebrew carved on it.  Visitors like myself put a stone on the tomb to indicate they have been there.  Yarzheit (memorial) candles are sometimes left next to the grave to mark the anniversary of the death of the deceased.

Herzl never lived to see the dream of Zionsim he ignited come to fruitition in birth of Israel.  He died in Austria in 1904 at the age of 44 (the age I am now).  He left instructions that his body be buried in Vienna among his family, until it could be reinterred in Palestine.  There are no living descendants of Herzl, as two of his children died young in tragic circumstances (morphine overdose & apparent suicide by gunshot), and the third perished in the holocaust.  Herzl's grandson escaped his native Austria and joined the British Army during WW II rising to officer rank.  He visited Palestine following the peace in 1945-1946 and was the only Herzl to see Palestine.  Tragically, following his work recording the first-hand accounts of witnesses to the holocaust, he spriraled into a deep depression and he took his own life in 1946.

After paying my respects to Herzl, I walked once more around the perimeters of the parade ground and then sat down to examine the Jerusalem map.  The signs confirmed that just behind (west) of Mt. Herzl is Yad Vashem.  I walked up to a soldier and asked directions.  She indicated the path I should follow.  I went down hill and then followed a winding path that led directly to the parking lot in front of Yad Vashem.

I decided to see the exhibits I had missed on my first visit.  I walked along Avenue of the Righteous and glanced at the stones commemorating & honoring those who risked their own lives to save Jews during the holocaust.  I noted a Bosnian Muslim couple were among them, and thought of the irony that more than 50 years later the Moslems of Bosnia would experience their own genocide at the hands of the Serbs.

At the end of the Avenue of the Righteous are two stone reliefs.  One depicts the heros of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising and the other depicts the Jewish people being led out of bondage in Egypt.

I wandered around the gardens and came to the synagogue, a modern structure built in the round.  The back walls are encased in glass and contain the remains of synagogues destroyed in the Shoah.  These items are perhaps the last remnants of an entire community that had existed for centuries in Eastern Europe.

The last exhibit at Yad Vashem I visited was the Hall of Remembrance.  This is a rectangular structure lit only by the eternal flame on the floor.  The visitors walk along an L-shaped platform that rises a foot above the floor which has the names of each concentration camp engraved.  The sign inside requests silence so that one can have a moment for contemplation or prayer.  It isn't necessary, because the intense aura of the room precludes any unnecessary sound.  What can be said at this moment?  Only silence seems fitting.

I had a brief glance in the bookshop and then walked across the plaza to the taxi stand.  I told the driver I wanted to go to the Jewish Museum.  He quoted a price, and then I quoted a lower price.  He agreed to my price and I got in.

The only moment when I had even a bit of fear for my safety was when the driver suggested he take me to Bethlehem.  I said no thanks.  He pressed a bit, but I remained firm and he dropped it.

Although I had seen the Dead Sea Scrolls on a visit to the Vatican many years ago, I opted to see them again in the Shrine of the Book their permanent location.

Having a bit of trouble with the electronic guide, I stopped in one of the buildings to ask for help.  Eventually, I got the hang of it and proceeded to the plaza above the Shrine of the Book.  The plaza is all stone and in the middle is a granite wall with water flowing over it.  Further west the plaza overlooks the giant model of ancient Jerusalem as it would have appeared in King Herod's day.  I was so busy taking photos, that I never walked around the model.  Then I turned and went down a long flight of stairs to the entrance of the Shrine of the Book.

The electronic guide explains how the ancient scrolls were discovered by Bedouins in the desert and purchased by archaeologists.  These scrolls were most probably the work of an ancient Jewish sect in the Judean desert during the 2nd Temple period and contain text from the Hebrew Torah.  This is thought to be the oldest biblical reference in history.

I toured Shrine of the Book which was designed to look like the clay jar in which the dead sea scrolls were found.  It is a dimly lit exhibit that you enter through a tunnel with artificats enclosed in glass on either side, before entering the rounded portion of the building.  You walk along the perimeter where portions of the scrolls & replicas of the scrolls are behind glass.  In the middle of the room on a platform is a cylinder with the actual scroll enclosed.  The exhibit is on two levels and visitors go down a circular stairway to see the 2nd level.

I emerged from the dimly lit exhibit and made my way to the Billy Rose Sculpture Garden.  The garden is made up of large gray stones, so I would recommend sturdy sneakers rather than mocassins which did not protect the soles of my feet.  These sculptures were given to the Israel Museum by Billy Rose, the Broadway impresario and art collector.

I decided to see the exhibition of paintings that had been stolen by Nazis during the 1930's and 1940's.  Many of these paintings were the works of renowned artists of the 18th and 19th centuries.  The artwork is being researched and whenever possible returned to the families of the rightful owners.

There was a tour group at that time, but I stayed on my own and viewed the room of paintings at my own pace.  It was pleasurable to sit down at a bench and take in the beauty one painting at a time.

Because the Israel Museum is located some distance from the commercial part of Jerusalem, I decided to take lunch in the snack shop in the visitors center.  I had a salmon & cream cheese sandwich, a yummy cookie & a hot drink.  The price was equivalent to what I'd pay in a restaurant excluding the tip.  After touring all morning, I needed a time-out.

After lunch I did a little gift shopping in the museum shop, where I purchased a black & white poster advertising a showing of Marc Chagall's work, as well as a delicate silver necklace that said "love" in Hebrew.

Before deciding to walk back to the Prima Royale from the Israel Museum, I consulted a museum volunteer, who said since I was young I could probably do it.

With only a moderate idea of where I was going I started out down Ruppin Boulevard and hiked up a bicyle and footpath, passing the Monastery of the Holy Cross.  I came to a large intersection and realized I wasn't where I wanted to be.  I then turned around and re-traced my path, again passing the Monastery and became totally befuddled.  The park I was walking through had very few people about, but fortune smiled on me when a young woman and a man I approached pointed me in the right direction.  In fact as I followed the footpath and went under the tunnel she indicated the young woman continued to follow me and make sure I was going in the right direction.  I was grateful as I was afraid I'd be eternally walking up and down in front of the Monestary.

Eventually I came into a residential area and the streets matched the map.  Strangely enough at this juncture I ran into Evy, Jane's friend who had been with us on our first night in Jerusalem.  Evy confirmed that Jerusalem is like a small town and eventually you run into everyone you know.  Evy is a part-time Jerusalem resident, so was a wealth of advice about this town

Before I knew it I was back on Keren Hayesod, where I checked out the Dan Hotel gift shop. Stupidly I left the poster I bought at the Israel Museum Gift Shop on the floor of the Dan gift shop.  When I realized what I'd done, I ran back and fortunately it was still there.  I purchased a post card and left.

I arrived back at the Prima Royale at 5:15 pm to find that the mini-van ride I had confirmed for a 6 pm pick-the night before had arrived 15 minutes earlier.  The driver was waiting in the lobby.  I asked the front-desk clerk for my suitcase, which I thought was stored directly behind the desk, only to find it wasn't there.  Panic briefly ensued until a porter took me to a storage room and there it was .  He carried the bags to the mini-van for me.  I realized I didn't have the proper change to give him a tip, but the mini-van driver kindly made change for me.  I ran back and gave the porter his tip.

The driver explained he was early because he was worried about rush hour traffic compounded by the security detail surrounding Condoleeza Rice's departure from Jerusalem.  Good thing I showed up early.

We drove past the Israeli President's (Shimon Peres) residence, the new bridge that resembles a tall sailing ship and followed the Jaffa Road past the Central Bus Station out of Jerusalem.

My hike around Jerusalem exhausted me and I soon fell asleep in the front seat  next to the driver.  When I woke I found the mini-van was parked at Ben Gurion Airport.  I turned to the driver and asked if he was picking up another passenger.  No he wasn't.  He wanted to know what time my flight was.  My flight?  I was supposed to be driven to the Melody Hotel in Tel Aviv across from the beach on Hayarkon Street.  He looked surprised and told me his brother/business partner had told him I was going to the airport.  Then I asked him just how long we had actually been sitting at the airport.  25 minutes.

I don't know why I didn't explode with anger, probably a combination of shock and not being fully conscious.

The driver put the car back in gear and we headed for Tel Aviv.

Like everyone else I met, the driver had his own story to tell.  He was a widower of several years, still mourning his wife, who died suddenly.  He was the proud papa of a grown son & daughter.  He was pleased to show me photographs of his family on his cell phone.  He mentioned that he had been in a tank unit during the Yom Kippur War.  Now he & his brother operated a successful limousine service out of Tel Aviv.  Since his wife died, various relatives including his sister cooked for him and saw to his social life.  He was born in Tel Aviv, but his parents had come from Libya with his older brother shortly before Israel declared statehood.

Finally, he dropped me at the Melody Hotel.  My 25 minute nap at Ben Gurion Airport negated any tip I might have given him.

The Melody is right on Hayarkon across from the Hilton.  It is a "boutique" hotel beautifully decorated in modern decor with cute little touches of whimsy from the pen & pencil desk set to the colorful coffee mugs.  The room is itsy bitsy and the shower would be a tight fit for someone above average size.  On the upside the bed was queen-size, the room was on the top floor with a great view of the Med and a the TV worked.  I was not complaining.

After washing up and putting on some comfortable walking shoes, I headed west to Ben Yehuda then Dizengoff Street where I did some serious window shopping.

I settled on a restaurant where I had the a fantastic eggplant rollatini.  Following dinner I walked over to a shop where a friendly chap was selling all varieties of nuts.  I got a giant bag of salted cashews for dessert which I happily munched while strolling the lively Tel Aviv streets back to my hotel.

At the Melody I requested a wake-up call and took the lift up to the 7th floor.  I read a bit about the northern towns I would visit tomorrow and fell fast asleep.