After planning for months and talking about it for months and anticipating it for months, I am finally in Israel. The last time I was here was three years, two months and 25 pounds ago. I had gone to visit Son #3 on an eating tour of Jerusalem. This tour was not an official one, like when Susie Fishbein goes, it was when Son #3 and I ate in many different restaurants over the course of six days and five nights and took pictures of each meal, what we ordered, and what number meal of the trip it was. It was actually surprising that I didn’t gain 25 pounds on that trip.
What was also interesting about that trip was that it coincided with some sort of diplomatic convention, so there were many heads of state staying in the King David Hotel and traveling around town. When more important politicos were out and about, the police closed the roads not only to vehicular traffic, but to foot traffic as well. This meant that I, along with every other guest at the Inbal, was not allowed to leave the hotel until security got the all-clear. So there I was, not knowing how I was going to meet Son #3 at our designated location at our appointed time. About 20 of us were standing in the lobby, discussing how crazy it was that we weren’t allowed to leave the hotel. “Are they even allowed to do this to us?” we kept asking. “This isn’t normal. How come we can’t walk outside?” These discussions only became crazier when covid hit, just a few short weeks later, and no one was allowed to go anywhere. Funny how things work out. (Not funny ha ha of course. Funny ironic.)
And speaking of the King David Hotel, Husband #1 and I stayed there for a few nights on our honeymoon. (Knowing how I describe Husband #1’s spending habits, you know it had to be something really really special for us to stay at the King David.) We were thrown out of our room (nicely, of course) because the King of Siam was coming to town and they needed the whole floor. (It wasn’t really the King of Siam, I just can’t remember who it was.) I often wonder if they enjoyed their stay, because our room was infested with mosquitoes and I left there looking like I had a really bad case of the chickenpox because those buggers ate me alive. Apparently Husband #1 isn’t as sweet as I am, because he left the hotel totally unscathed.
In any event, here I am, thank God, back in Israel. On my way to the airport, I started to say that I forgot to get my dad a birthday card because his birthday is March 31. Weird how things like that happen. I am happy that I am here for his birthday instead of at home, because I am hoping that it will make it a little less traumatic and that being with Danish also will ease that pain. And eating at Waffle Bar will help too. Yes, food is love. You knew I was going to say it.
On a lighter note, Son #2, Dil #2, and Danish met me at the airport. Son #2 decided it would be fun for me to take a train from the airport and then a bus to his apartment. If any of you have been following the news in Israel, there has been a whole political hullabaloo and tons of protests. And, wouldn’t you know it, hundreds of those protesters were on our train and when we got to our stop and all those folks poured out into the station, they were chants being shouted and drums being beaten and whistles being blown and one very freaked out Babka, who was ready to kill her son for possibly putting Danish in harm’s way. And not letting me take a car service home from the airport, but that is a whole other bone of contention.
And so it begins, the adventure that I have been hoping for since they moved here over a year ago. Looking forward to sharing more of it with you next week…
Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is hoping that Husband #1 will agree to be a guest columnist after flying 12 hours with Strudel next week…