Planes, trains, and auto...buses
I have a love-
hate-very strong dislike relationship with buses. Really any moving vehicle, actually (trains are mostly okay, though). But I especially don’t like buses. The bumpy rides and strong smells and sometimes it’s really humid and you’re sitting squished next to people when you’re carrying a bunch of grocery bags and the bus stops suddenly and you go flying backwards and your backpack hits someone in the face and when you get off everyone’s laughing because you are so obviously relieved to finally be off that bus. Every time is a new experience. I’m sure anyone who has had to use public transportation knows exactly what I’m talking about, too. Growing up, I was lucky enough to live five minutes from my high school and it started early enough that I could go in with my mom on her way to work rather than having to take the bus (thanks, Mom). We also live on a small street at home where I would’ve been the only one at my stop. So I never had to really deal with them much until I got here. I recognize how nice it is to not have had to take buses until now. But since we live on top of a mountain, we have to take them pretty much all the time, unless we’re hiking across the street.
Buses go everywhere here, and they’re really cheap. So they’ve been my primary mode of transportation, and I’ve seen a lot of Israel while sitting on buses. Aside from the struggles that come with grocery bags and riding up the mountain, and occasional bouts of motion sickness, buses can actually be pretty great. They give me time to think. Sometimes, I have the seat all to myself and I can put my legs up and look out the window and have my own little corner. Sometimes, I get to meet someone new. When you get on the bus, you never really know what’s going to happen. Or if you’re even going to get to the right place…there’s a lot of trial and error involved. And generally a lot of error at first. But I’m figuring it out, and the little victories are awesome when I finally get to where I’m trying to go (even if it’s been a few extra hours). Bus rides have taught me a lot about myself, and about trusting people when I ask them questions about my stop (even if I have to be a little more persistent when asking) and the driver to get us there. Not everyone is excited about being helpful, but if you ask enough times they’ll answer. Some people, though, are surprisingly really nice and they’ll make sure I know exactly what to do. And I’m never the only one who gets off. It’s pretty humbling, in that sense. I’ve also grown a whole lot of respect for bus drivers. They’ve taught me about patience (about having to have it) and being on someone else’s schedule, and waiting, and the way drivers deal with people every day (especially the ones who don’t know Hebrew and ask all the questions) and drive the same route over and over again. I’ve also learned exactly how much I love finally getting off the bus and standing on firm ground. Because as much as buses get me to the places I’m going, I love walking so much more.
One of the reasons I’ve realized it took some more time than I’d thought it would to get adjusted here is because of the buses. I can get to know a place so much easier by foot, like when I was in Istanbul. Even after just three days, I felt like I could still show someone around there better than I could here. Which was a little weird after having been here for a month by then. But there’s a whole process involved in bus rides and I think the uneasiness is just one of the unexpected challenges of living in a new place. If things weren’t hard about this whole thing, it wouldn’t be right. But now, after two months, when I get on buses, I’m a little calmer about getting to where I’m going. I can just kind of let go and know I’ll get there when I get there.
I called my brother the other day and we were talking about everything that’d been going on, and being here, and away from home, and how I felt compelled to be doing or thinking or learning or something. Listening is doing something too, but sometimes it’s also okay to just be. He told me to think about holding a glass of water- if you pick it up and hold it for a few seconds or minutes, it’s not heavy at all- you barely think about it. But the longer you hold it, the heavier it gets. Sometimes you just have to put it down. (He’s so wise, I know!) That gave me some perspective on my perspective. We’re allowed to just be, too, and let life take the reins. Buses have taught me about that, too. It’s okay to let someone else drive.
I’m well aware of my tendencies towards planning- it runs in the family (I think my brother got a little less of that gene)- so it takes a lot for me to just sit back. But I do love the grass, and feeling it between my toes, and just watching the sky go by. Just having time to sit and enjoy those little things is really wonderful. Sometimes it’s hard to learn how to give ourselves a break for us thinkers and planners, but it really is okay to just lay in the grass. I’m finding places to do that on top of this mountain, too, between classes. It’s like a little slice of home that for some reason I didn’t realize I could do here, too…we’re all under the same sun, too, even if it’s not always shining, or warm.
“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under the trees…watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time”
Last weekend, we went to a seminar near Jerusalem but close to Abu Ghosh, which is a really beautiful place that overlooks the city. One of the sessions was a panel about Israeli society. All of the panelists go to the School of Management in Tel Aviv, and the conversation took a bit of a turn from community involvement when a participant asked why more young Israelis don’t get involved with politics. Her response was simple: “I can talk about the conflict, but it’s about what you do on a daily basis, more than anything- it’s about being nice to others, to Arabs or anyone else when you see them, every second, every hour.” It’s about just being- just being kind, and human. That can’t be that hard, can it?