I glanced out the window, checking on the weather as I sat visiting with a friend in my living room. To my dismay, the rain was back. The sky looked windy and wet, but I knew that I'd need to venture out regardless since Selah was scheduled to get her shots in an hour.
What does it mean to not have a car while living in Jerusalem?
I bundled Selah up in her slick pink snowsuit and strapped her into my baby carrier, hoping she'd fall asleep against my chest and benefit from my warmth. I put on my own jacket over the carrier, donned my backpack (including diapers, spare clothes, bus card, purse, and passports), and set off hoping my umbrella would withstand the wind. For the next 10-15 minutes, I walked as fast as I could, down the paved hill to Tantur's front gate, across the street and through a major intersection, waiting at 5 lights for pedestrian crossings. Just as I started down a set of stairs, through water gushing across the sidewalk, only a few more minutes from the bus stop, I saw the number 32 pulling around the corner and heading away from me up the hill. I had barely missed it.
With the wind blowing relentlessly and making the rain come sideways, my legs got increasingly wet and my hands increasingly chilled. I couldn't believe I had just missed the bus. Now I'd need to wait another 10 minutes for the next one, though thankfully there was a small shelter available. Two buses passed me before the right one arrived and I flagged it down. After inserting my bus card into the machine, deducting a trip from my total, I sat down on a seat facing others, grateful that there was space for me. Ten minutes later, I buzzed to get off the bus and walked the final 6 minutes to get to the clinic.
Since Selah just needed to be weighed and measured, and receive two shots, the appointment didn't take long. (Though they couldn't figure out her name or find her in their system until I handed over her passport for them to see it written.) We walked back to the bus stop less than an hour later, grateful that the rain had stopped. This time I had Selah facing outward in my baby carrier, despite the wind, for when she's not asleep, she always prefers seeing the world around her. I warmed myself up, walking back up Tantur's steep long hill, and Selah fell asleep, with the weight of her head supported by my hand against her face. In just under two hours, we'd made it to the clinic without a car and were back in time for dinner.
What does it mean to not have a car while living in Jerusalem?
I bundled Selah up in her slick pink snowsuit and strapped her into my baby carrier, hoping she'd fall asleep against my chest and benefit from my warmth. I put on my own jacket over the carrier, donned my backpack (including diapers, spare clothes, bus card, purse, and passports), and set off hoping my umbrella would withstand the wind. For the next 10-15 minutes, I walked as fast as I could, down the paved hill to Tantur's front gate, across the street and through a major intersection, waiting at 5 lights for pedestrian crossings. Just as I started down a set of stairs, through water gushing across the sidewalk, only a few more minutes from the bus stop, I saw the number 32 pulling around the corner and heading away from me up the hill. I had barely missed it.
With the wind blowing relentlessly and making the rain come sideways, my legs got increasingly wet and my hands increasingly chilled. I couldn't believe I had just missed the bus. Now I'd need to wait another 10 minutes for the next one, though thankfully there was a small shelter available. Two buses passed me before the right one arrived and I flagged it down. After inserting my bus card into the machine, deducting a trip from my total, I sat down on a seat facing others, grateful that there was space for me. Ten minutes later, I buzzed to get off the bus and walked the final 6 minutes to get to the clinic.
Since Selah just needed to be weighed and measured, and receive two shots, the appointment didn't take long. (Though they couldn't figure out her name or find her in their system until I handed over her passport for them to see it written.) We walked back to the bus stop less than an hour later, grateful that the rain had stopped. This time I had Selah facing outward in my baby carrier, despite the wind, for when she's not asleep, she always prefers seeing the world around her. I warmed myself up, walking back up Tantur's steep long hill, and Selah fell asleep, with the weight of her head supported by my hand against her face. In just under two hours, we'd made it to the clinic without a car and were back in time for dinner.
1 comment:
You're amazing. Sorry it was so wet and cold!
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