Taking the bus into town, I realized the reason I got lost yesterday (and had to tramp across a wadi) was that there is no longer open ground between Ramat Rahel and the rest of the city. Houses all the way.

Walked around Mea Shearim, trying to get pictures, but difficult and awkward. At that time of morning, the tiny anaemic kids are underfoot, the boys in checked blue shirts, the girls in black stockings and pigtails Many are unaccompanied – one way to ensure independent, strong willed adults.

Went to the Israel Museum, though I looked at irrelevant things that could have been in a museum anywhere. Busiest room was exhibition “When Grandpa and Grandma were young”, clothes, pictures, posters, photos, trivia of all kinds.

Back at the station, Ester was back from an extravagant group tour of America. I was still “Hamud”! She vaguely invited be to her moshav, but I shrugged it off: I think it could be awkward, and I want to get going. Sidney was very abrupt, didn’t have anything to say, and Zohar was almost the same, but he told me that he now has a 10 month old boy as well as the daughter born while we were there. Jaaber is studying in Tel Aviv for advanced paramedic (with hairy Yossi), Riyeed has gone for bigger money in the private sector, and Michael was actually done for embezzling patient fees. RIyeed has a daughter, and another on the way.

Nicest surprise was going on an off chance into the blood bank, where Ruti was on the phone to her mother, but recognized me immediately. She’s married a policeman called Aaron (but wasn’t wearing a scarf) and has a daughter called Etslil (“chimes”?). We were the nicest group, she said, the others were drunk, partied every night, dirty (and what’s new?). Hashish as well though, in the station according to Philip. This was the third group, after which he complained to GAP, who sent him an excellent fourth group until the war interrupted. Even the Canadians said our reputation lived on…

Took the super long, brand new (but same decor) #25 to Neve Yaakov. Empty new flats line the road to Pisgat Ze’ev, which in itself has oozed down the hill. Fat Reuben and his wife were open for business with a massive Rabin poster on the wall. Russian adverts tacked on the bus shelter. Neve Yaakov still belongs to MDA and the windows were open on the kitchen balcony, but no clothes hanging on the bars or other signs of life.

Naiad took me to visit a friend, ex-mitnadevet, with Malkha from the merkazia. Just watched TV though, shame. Unless I get in with Eli, I’m not going to meet any Israelis, it seems. Gorgeous sunrises and sunsets from Ramat Rahel.