The clamour as we walked out of customs, the crowds glimpsed through the bars and the glaring lights aaginst the night sky were a memory jerker. Only this time there was no one to greet me, or a group to join. Had to wait over 2 hours for the first bus, and though desperately tired could only doze (it was the same on the plane). By that time it was light, and horribly humid. The drive was pleasant but the views hazy My memory was even hazier – there seemed to be far more villages off the road than I remembered, and I missed the accident site completely.
The sky was blue, and the warmth perfect in Jerusalem. I headed straight out to the Old City to get a place to stay, and was greeted by 2 huge cranes facing Jaffa gate, the ground excavated and a sign above the construction proclaiming “DAVID’S VILLAGE”. Inside the gate all was as normal, the shops just beginning to open. The hostel is expensive but very smart, and tucked away perfectly up some steps, round a corner and along the path, up another, winding, path under arches. The site of the pre 1967 Bikur Cholim hospital!
Met Ronit at her office. She was smaller than I remembered, and her hair was different- her face and voice were the same. Together we went down to the MDA station, me needing the moral support. Things were quiet – the ambulances outside all had the newer Nighthawk flashing lights – watched Yonni, who taught us Shakhal [cardiac emergencies?], walk in. I was hypnotised! Through the Merkezia window I could see Changul and Ossi but I didn’t think they would remember be so didn’t try it. Paced down the coll blue corridor, and found myself in the doorway of the Shakal room face to face with Esa. There were unfamiliar bodies sprawled around, and all were watching a wall mounted colour TV. Ronit introduced me, and I said hello, how are you. Esa was a bit fazed – obviously I stirred some sort of memory but he couldn’t latch on to it. Drivers’ room was empty. Ronit discovered in the back of the volunteers’ room a stubbly chinned Shlomi who leapt up to greet me, failed completely to speak any English and spoke via Ronit. He’s married now, no kids yet.
Moshe Itzhak remembered us when I mentioned Louise, Jeremy and Emma. He even told me that all the other groups were compared to us as a standard, and remembered how the second group had been much less impressive. Then hot on each other’s heels came Jaaber, the moustached man (Alex) from downstairs, Ran Zehavi, Bibi and Philip. Jaaber hadn’t changed at all (in fact, only Bibi looked a little older) and his face brightened into an incredulous expression almost as soon as he saw me – but he was called away, which was when Philip (“yes” said Moshe, “we are still blessed with Philip’s presence”) appeared half asleep, gave me a phone number then wailed off.
Ran is now second in command. Avraham is very unpopular. Danny was fired after yet another accident, Uri was fired for wild driving. Michael has moved to Tiberias and Voltokh is still crazy and shouting at everyone. Ester and Koso were on holiday. Moshe is just married.
Finally Naiad rolled in – stubbly like Shlomi, but with the same helmet haircut, and bloodshot eyes. He didn’t have any problems remembering me, but was his usual soft spoken, eyes averted self. “Caroline, where is she?” Her best wishes. He nearly came to England but he couldn’t’ arrange the time off work. He invited me to visit him again, the star…
It was all very strange, and also painful. We didn’t really know what to say to the drivers or them to us; and the lack of any substantial change seemed to mean we hadn’t mattered at all. Maybe we didn’t. In Jerusalem, new buildings were springing up in odd places where I couldn’t remember what had been before. The old Shaarei Zedek hospital was still there, also the fume filled booth shops on Jaffa Road’s narrowest bends. The Midrahov (Ben Yehuda street, pedestrianized) was smaller than I remembered. But the old city is still magic, and more so now as I wander the stepped roads lit by bare bulbs or amber lamps in the evening, watching the kids playing and the people seeming to take back real possession of it. And watching the roof tops and spires as the last rays catch them, turn them pink or make them shine golden. Apart from getting lost many times in the old city, I also bought some sandals, and bargain fruit at Mahane Yehuda as SHabat approached.