Someone Drops the I-Bomb

Route: From Beit HaArava jct to Metzukei Dragot (Dragot cliffs)
Distance: 26 km / 16 miles
Time Waited: 10 minutes

The Story: My foodless co-travelers didn't take this ride - I think they were first trying to locate nosh. The driver was a student in Jerusalem but not, as I originally assumed at Hebrew University. He was completing and re-doing matriculation exams, so that he could do a year of preparatory studies and then, hopefully, be accepted to the university. Yes, the system lacks many of the California system's charms.

While I generally feel extremely cool for taking 2 years of Turkish, the driver put my Turkish brownie-points to shame. He's a heir to some branch of the Turkish royal family, which was banished to the corners of the earth some point. One ended up in this neck of the Ottoman Empire (although by this point, it may have become the British Mandate of Palestine), where his family has lived every since. He doesn't speak Turkish or identify as a Turk, and yet apparently his unchanged surname was a dead giveaway when he visited Turkey last year. And although it happened at least 3 generations ago, the Turks at border control still hold harsh feelings. So, from now on, he must coordinate with the Turkish police whenever he wishes to visit. Judge for yourselves.

Mid-way into my explanation of why I find Turkey so interesting, he turned the topic of conversation eastward, to Iran. He believed in taking action against Iran, since nobody else seems to be willing, comparing the situation to Osirak. I said that if anyone takes action against Iran, it'll be an unidentified pilot, carrying no papers, flying a previously unknown airplane and using a one-in-a-kind missile - all to preclude identification and blame. The driver seemed to believe Israel should either recruit (or open the door to) volunteers willing to become, essentially, kamikaze pilots. I strongly disagreed, reasoning that something in the Jewish/Western psyche makes this scenario impossible.

Cramped in the Back

Route: Almog jct to Beit HaArava jct

Distance: 4 km / 2.5 miles
Time Waited: 8 minutes

The Story: Due to new traffic arrangements in Jerusalem, I have no choice but to take the bus to Almog, and hitch a ride from there. I also consider it a safety precaution, since the bus whizzes past the exits to Ramallah and Jericho. I was heading to my Yom Kippur camping spot.

I got off the bus, and met my co-travelers: a hippy, free-spirited teen couple. The girl wasn't exactly dressed for a desert outing, and the guy's fisherman pants were barely tied up. I had no answer when they asked where they could find bread. No fasting for these folks. It was hot. Very hot. The guy "stands," and I sit in the shade of the bus stop with the girl. Suddenly she called out, "maybe we should fast." He looked at her like he suddenly realized he'd been dating an alien. She continued: "we don't have any food anyways." He responded, "we have food." She was determined, "yes, but why did you bring only 1 can of corn but 5 cans of tuna?" He replied, "tuna is more filling." This ends the conversation, although it was still unclear where they'd find food.

The driver who stopped took us a very short distance. The three of us crammed into the back seat and I let them do the talking. My favorite are long rides,when the driver is willing, even anxious, to talk. I dislike short (functional) rides in full cars. Especially when trying to avoid impaling myself with my tent poles in the tiny back seat.

It's the Moustache, Stupid!

Route: From Gedera to Jerusalem
Distance: 50 km / 31 miles
Time Waited: 45 minutes

The Story: I ended up waiting longer than expected, but was nonetheless glad for the previous ride. While waiting, I'd toyed with trying to get to Abu Gosh for some Shabbat-afternoon hummus, but decided that any efforts would be futile and frustrating. I would just hope really hard and play along with whatever came my way.

Eventually, a station wagon pulled up. Moustached Dad at the wheel, Bleached Mom riding shotgun, and Antsy Kid sitting in the back. After buckling up I noticed that the car was emitting a super-annoying beeping sound, that just kept going. Apparently they were inured to it.

While Dad bore a striking resemblance to Thomas Friedman, that's all that can be said. He didn't strike me as the sharpest tool in the shed, although he answered his son's questions regarding IQ with great detail. I think it was more the way he barked out his words, while mom remained silent the entire ride.

When it became clear they were not Jerusalemites, it struck me as slightly odd that they'd be heading into town Saturday afternoon, as the weekend was coming to an end. Dad proudly informed me that they were en route to visit their two older kids, who study and live at the Israel Arts and Science Academy. They dropped me off at the entrance to the city, and I continued reading Moon Palace while waiting for three stars to become visible, indicating the renewal of bus service.

Stroke Your Dog (aka Everyone Knows Ron)

Route: From HaBonim to Gadera
Distance: 109 km / 67.5 miles
Time Waited: 15 minutes

The Story: I'd been waiting for about 7-8 minutes when two girls joined me. They'd been at the reggae festival (which apparently wasn't that great), and were trying to reach Netanya. We pooled our resources (whoever doesn't look like a prepubescent boy or have crazy dreads gets to "stand"), and waited. It didn't take long for a car to stop. A driver in his 30s, holding a very cute (and very tiny!) dog on his lap picked us up. We piled our bags in, and set off. His destination was Gedera, which was a little more south than I intended, but he would drop me off at a great intersection. In other words, I could get from Haifa to Jerusalem with 1-2 rides - hitchhiker's jackpot. Bypassing Tel Aviv is key!

As we chugged along, he kept petting and stroking his dog. Words cannot do justice to how cute, fluffy and adorable this dog was. And I don't even like dogs. It was about the size of a large melon, and looked like something you wouldn't mind keeping wrapped around your neck, or use as a pillow. Throughout the ride, he kept babytalking at the dog, and at one point he leaned down to get the dog to "kiss" him. Please sir, keep both eyes on the road. Plus, he really enjoyed talking about the dog, which he'd gotten off the street a week ago (vaccinations pending). The driver had been at his annual HaBonim beach weekend with friends, and it had been the dog's first time at the beach. Good times were had by all.

The driver works in real estate, which is apparently going quite well. Apparently Gedera strikes the country-living-but-close-enough-to-commute balance quite well, and houses are in high demand.

Ron, my former housemate (also known by his nom de guerre Hummusius - the Greek god of Hummus) is from Gedera. I texted him and asked if he was around, and sat back for the ride. As one point I mentioned Ron, and it turns out that they know each other! The driver said, "tell him Ben-Shabbat gave you a ride," and added, "we're even friends on Facebook." Of course, this shouldn't come as a surprise. At a recent street party Ron was selling hummus, and nearly every conversation I overheard was someone bragging that their friend made the hummus. Cheers.

Whevever you go, there's always someone.... from Berkeley

Route: From Habonim Beach to Geva Karmel
Distance: 8 km / 5 miles
Time Waited: 0.5 minutes

The Story: I quickly found one good soul leaving the glorious morning on the beach who was willing to take me to the main road (refer to previous post). The driver was in his late 40s and his female companion was probably around the same.

The driver was born in Geva Carmel, but moved to Colorado, where he still lives. His Hebrew was perfect, except for a slight American accent on the R's. But who am I to judge. When he found out I lived in Berkeley for 5 years and La Honda for 1, he had to share his own connection to the Bay Area.

He'd spent 6 months hitchhiking around California in the early 70s, and spoke of those times with much nostalgia. He also told me about his friend who still lives in SF, who had graduated from the Technion, married an American, and moved to the US, where he earned his Ph.D. in physics at Cal. For the last 24 years, he's been working on the Large Hadron Collider. The driver made sure that I realized that long before any of us ever heard of CERN, his friend was hard at work. Ooops.

Riding with Bikers

Route: From Beit Oren Junction to Ofer Forest
Distance: 12.5 km / 7.75 miles
Time Waited: 15 minutes

The Story: I was waiting at an intersection lacking a bus stop, which broadly speaking, isn't the best way to find a ride. The American reader needs to understand that although I was on one of Israel's main highways, at this point it consisted of a mere one lane in either direction and lacked any engineering spiffiness generally associated with highways.

The driver (Assaf) was actually heading to my exact destination - Ofer Forest. I'd decided to hike, camp out and continue the next day, but hadn't decided which trails to take. He was heading to the forest to bike. According to his calculations, he had exactly 1 hour and 15 minutes to pedal before he had to return home for Shabbat dinner. I glanced at the car seat in the back, noted the ring on his finger, and wondered how his wife was coping with him taking off right before dinner. To give him the benefit of the doubt, perhaps they'd been invited out.

Assaf dropped me off in the middle of the forest, and pointed me towards a nice trail. I ended up going a different way, but still got a wonderful 4k hike in before deciding that camping at the beach was a much better idea. Turns out, my friend was hosting a reggae festival at the beach, but since I don't particularly like reggae, I passed. More on this issue to follow.

Drunken Frenchie

Route: From Ein Gedi to Jerusalem
Distance: 75.5 km / 47 miles
Time Waited: 20 minutes


The Story: It was about an hour before sunset, and I was sick and tired of being assaulted by waves of flying pebbles at the beach. Ouch. After listening through endless hours of Forum and TTBOOK, I'd had enough and decided to head out. I took up the normal hitchhiking position and found a Frenchie hanging out at the bus stop. He said (it wasn't clear if he was asking or informing) that a bus should be coming any minute. Needless to say, it was Saturday, and thus I wasn't holding my breath. (I did check, and a bus from Eilat would have arrived 1 hours later, around 7:30pm.)

Finally, someone stopped - he was heading to Jerusalem. I asked where to (safety precaution), and he replied Givat Mordechai, my neighborhood. Bingo. The driver was probably in his 40s and was alone, except a small suitcase in the back. The Frenchie hopped in the back seat, and we were off.

The driver was quite taciturn and didn't want to talk about anything, except make well-deserved derisive comments regarding the Frenchie under his breath. Needless to say, The Frenchie's English wasn't that great, and he leaned forward the entire ride (apparently car safety has gone the same way as personal hygiene), talking loudly. Again, it was unclear whether he was asking or commenting. Topics included flights to France on Saturday night and whether the driver was married (he was divorced - perhaps related to the solo vacation to Eilat). He then prophesied that the couple would be reunited. The driver's question whether he'd been drinking wasn't understood. He lent forward and taped my shoulder the entire time, in failed attempt after failed attempt to communicate.

Finally, my personal space became more important than the ride. I got out by the Hebrew University, got a (gross) sandwhich at Aroma, and hopped on the #19 bus home.

Here to Stay

Route: From Kalya to Ein Gedi

Distance: 38.5 km / 23.5 miles

Time Waited: 25 minutes

The Story: The driver was a 52-year old man with a black knitted kippa and trimmed beard. It was Friday afternoon, Shabbat was approaching, but there were no indications that he was heading towards Shabbat plans (suitcases or a suit in the back seat). Also absent was a wife and/or kids. Most people driving past were already checking out for the weekend, and had either fancy clothing or camping gear in their cars. Turns out, he works for a leasing company and he was en route to help a client who needed his car fixed at Nahal David.

He'd spent every day of the past 52 years of his life in Israel. Yes, he's never left this tiny strip of land. His parents were Moroccan immigrants, and I'm sure his 3 kids (all married, he duly noted) have left the country. But he's not at all curious to see what the great outside world contains, although he'd had chances through his previous career.

He'd been raised to be a good person, which he tried to pass onto his kids. Although he's observant, he expressed tolerance towards his secular father, and secular daughter (who is married +1 and lives with him at the moment). One of his sons has become a little less respectful. This son was the Thai boxing champion during high school, but was then inducted into the army (a right, he points out; not an obligation). There he became more observant, and now turns over photographs of the daughter wearing low-cut shirts. This infuriates his father.

This led to a general conversation on the lack of respect in Israeli society. I shared experiences with the kids I've begun teaching. He shared that often, on the road, he'll let drivers cut him off. This leads them to realizing how aggressive of a culture we've become. Once someone got out of his car and thanked my driver for "waking him up." He believes this is a result of living in this tiny conflict-ridden country, that people become stressed and just go along, without critically examining their own behavior. Nonetheless, he has no plans to get out and release steam abroad, like so many Israelis do.