Sitting on the patio for breakfast, Don’s uncle Nissim patiently spoke to me in Hebrew, telling stories of his visits to America. In 2001, he was in Chicago and went to go see the Sears Tower. On the elevator ride to the top, they played a video about the construction of the building and Nissim remarked, “If something bad ever happened to this building, it would be a great tragedy”. The next day he flew to New York to visit his daughter’s famiy. They took him to the twin towers and asked him if he would like to go up to the top. He said, “I was just at the tallest building in Chicago, why would I want to go up these?” Instead, they sat at a café at the base of the building and went on to see other attractions. The next day was the morning of September 11th. Nissim turned on the TV and saw the first tower on fire. He did not understand English, and thought he was watching a strange movie. He tried to change channels, but every channel seemed to be playing the same movie. It was not until his daughter came home from work that he understood that there was an attack on the buildings. I looked at him in shock, unsure how to respond with my basic Hebrew vocabulary. I guess living in a country that is constantly under attack, makes one conscious of the false sense of security felt elsewhere. People in Israel have needed to adapt and become tough to continue on with everyday life, and in recent years Americans have also realized that they take a lot of freedoms for granted. It reminded me why they sometimes call Israelis “sabras”, the fruit of a cactus, because they are sweet on the inside, but have thick skin.
I sat on the patio chatting, until I could no longer tolerate the heat. The weather in Kiriyat Shmona is deadly in the summer because it’s extremely hot and humid. The last time I visited the area, three years ago, I got what the Israelis call a “sun attack”, and suffered from headaches, dizziness, fever, and dehydration. I remember trying to sleep it off in the coolest, darkest, and quietest place available in the house- the bomb shelter. This time around, I came more prepared and brought a bottle of water, hat, and portable fan with me everywhere I went, and avoided leaving air-conditioned rooms in the middle of the day whenever possible. I took a siesta, and awoke in the evening when it had cooled off outside. Don was anxious to borrow Felix’s tractor and go for a ride in the orchards before sunset, and I decided to join him. Felix backed the tractor out of his garage, pointed us in the right direction, and we drove off. Much of the land surrounding Kiriyat Shmona is agricultural. We passed orange groves, apple orchards, apricot and plum trees, and fields of cattle. The surrounding hills looked exactly like the ones behind my family’s home in Carmel Valley, San Diego. So much so, that it made me feel homesick. It’s funny how you can travel halfway across the world and see something that looks just like your backyard.
No comments:
Post a Comment