Jerusalem Ups and Downs

J'lem, day one. We had (have) so much we need to get done, and it's not getting done, but I guess we are entitled to one day to acclimate. We didn't actually manage to get out of the flat until about 11, and thought that we'd walk from here (Katamon, Bilu 12, for those just tuning in) via King David Street (so that we'd pass by Yemin Moshe and give Toby his first good view of the Old City), and on to Ben Yehuda street. The idea was, we'd be able to get a good falafel (we remembered a good stand on Ben Yehuda, but now I'm less convinced...I think the falafel at Hebrew U. was cheaper and just as good).

So, we walked, and walked, and walked, taking a coffee break periodically. Toby was a trooper, and Bru kept falling asleep in her stroller (which was probably a good thing, as she'd had a hard time sleeping the night before). Happily, the windmill was still there, and Yemin Moshe was as beautiful as ever. To think that when the colony was originally built, its residents only pretended to live there when Montefiore checked up on their progress and to collect their allowance...but I digress.

On Ben Yehuda street, I had the encounter I'd been dreading since I knew I'd be returning to Israel. Kara and I were looking at a map, trying to strategize the best way to get back home.

[Note to self: don't be so stupid as to open a map on Ben Yehuda street.]

As we're looking and discussing, suddenly I notice a man has taken an interest in us. He butts in to our conversation, asking us where we're trying to go. I look up, and immediately know it's bad. He's wearing a big bright blue Magen David baseball cap, a t-shirt covered with the slogan NO DIVIDING JERUSALEM, its collar covered in pins of the city seal, and he's holding a clipboard.

Now, my usual reaction to just about anyone who approaches me carrying a clipboard is to try and find an escape as quickly as possible. But I hope this time, naively, that he genuinely just wants to help (even though we don't need help, but never mind). "Where are you from?" he asks, and I just really don't want to say New York, because I know that's where he's from. "New York," I mumble. "Oh, from Long Island?" Ugh. "No, Westchester." "Oh, Westchester!" Blah blah something about New York blah blah.

Then, "OK, you picked a good map! Where are you trying to go?" Kara, ever the friendlier of our zug, answers "Do you know if this [points to blob of red in Talpiot, which we think was a mall we wanted to go out to to take care of some necessities] is the [name of mall]?" "Oh, you don't want to go there, you want to go to [name of some tourist trap shopping center near the King David]. You can't miss that. It's great! [More platitudes about said tourist trap.]"

OK, so our conversation with this gentleman is done so far as I'm concerned. But then it happens: POLITICS. I knew it would. It was inevitable...no one ever carries a clipboard for no reason.

"Now that I've helped you out, you can do me the small favor of signing this petition" he turns over clipboard to reveal a list of names and addresses of other people he's accosted, "telling Obama that we will never allow Jerusalem to be divided?" He really spits out the name, as though he could barely manage saying it.

My reply, accompanied by a grimace, was "I'm sorry, no, I'm not going to sign your petition," and then mumbling something about not wanting to put my name on anything political because of my position, etc. I mean, really, whether I agree with him or not (and, for many reasons, I do think that Jerusalem will not ultimately be divided), it is the height of chutzpah for him to make demands based on his presumptions about me. Truth be told, I didn't want to sign, no matter what it said.

His response was predictably indignant. "Do you understand at all what the importance of this is?"

This, dear reader, is perhaps the one question he could ask that would REALLY make me mad.

"Yes, I understand very well, thank you. And I'm not going to sign your petition."

And yet he keeps coming. "Why don't you explain to me, then, what this is about."

Sufficed to say, after this point, there was really nothing else going to happen in this discussion, save me ending it as soon as I possibly could through whatever means, short of signing his stupid paper.

I've been kicking myself for hours now with all of the things I SHOULD have said in response to this, and here's the best one I've come up with: "No, I don't think I will, because I don't owe you an explanation for anything I say or do. You intruded, unasked, on a private conversation, offered information that is less than useless to us, make 100 different presumptions about us based upon our dress and demeanor [I was wearing, I should mention, my usual black kippah srugah, Kara her hair covered as always, and a skirt], and then presume to demand my signature. You don't know anything about me, my ideals, my opinions, or anything else. To you, I'm just another American sap, so overwhelmed by the magic of being in Jerusalem, that any two bit schmuck like you can just walk up, take us by the hand, and tell us how it REALLY IS over here, and how we should just listen with rapt attention to all your TERRIFIC knowledge about what is quite possibly the most intractable, complex and painful political and spiritual issue that I, as a Jew, as a human being, and (at least for the next year) as a resident of this city, could possibly face. So no, I won't sign, nor will I explain myself to the likes of you. And now you can do me and my wife and my beautiful and increasingly impatient children a favor, and fuck off."

In the immortal words of comedian Steven Wright, that's what I should have said.

Dear readers, here is where I must apologize if what I've said offends, for I need all of the readers I can get. But here is how I see it: I think we all are entitled to our opinions on this and all of the wrenching issues faced by Israel today. They are none of them easy. We should discuss them. We should argue about them. We should be anguished about them.

But just don't assume that we all believe the same thing, nor that we should accept having the demand put upon us to defend our dearest opinions to any random person who feels inclined to butt in and shove a paper in our face. Because we don't and shouldn't.

At any rate, it will be a while before I open a map on Ben Yehuda street.

I promise the next post will be happier!