Dearest Rachel –
Travel is like this sometimes; flights take off at the weirdest hours, and one has to be up and out in order to catch them. So it is with us; after writing you last night about the activities of yesterday, Daniel and I bundled ourselves off to bed (at nine-thirty, which was the best we could do) in hopes of getting some shuteye before we had to meet in the lobby at a little after one. I’m actually surprised that the twelve-fifteen alarm was sufficient to wake us, and we got down in less than fifteen minutes; way earlier than we needed to be, but I wasn’t taking any more chances than I absolutely had to.
Over the course of the last twenty-four hours, Daniel seems to have come down with a cold; he’s sniffling constantly (and apologetic about it, too) with an occasional cough. He hopes he’s seated next to me on our flights, and I agree; I really would rather not subject any more people than necessary to whatever he’s dealing with. Not that it seems anything more than a nuisance; that really should be quite sufficient to not wish on a stranger. At least if I catch whatever it is he has, I have all the time in the world to recover from it, like he does. I doubt too many of our travel companions can say the same.
We haven’t been hanging out in the hotel lobby in the evenings like some of the others – Daniel prefers to curl up with his internet in the hotel room, and as for me, I’m too busy editing videos and writing you to socialize like that. I was down here at n Sunday evening, and some of the others were pointing out how there were couples scattered throughout the hotel bar; matchmaking meetups of Orthodox Jewish young people. Evidently this is a daily occurrence here at this hotel; the arranged matches meet for the first or second time here, and get to know each other before getting married (by or before the fifth such ‘date’). We talk about the dating process at home in the States being like a job interview; this is a case of that comparison cranked up to eleven.
I mention this because, even at this hour of the morning, there are a handful of such couples wrapping up their evening. I would assume these are the more successful ones, as they’ve been able to converse with each other for so long of the past evening. All I can do is mentally wish them well, with perhaps the slightest touch of envy
I keep thinking about how, the last time we were leaving Jerusalem, it was deathly calm and quiet, in both the hotel and the streets. Then again, that was on a Saturday, so that probably made a difference that I tend to overlook, as we don’t observe the Sabbath in the States.
Yael shows up to see us off, with cheers and hugs all around (except for Daniel, out of consideration for his condition. He’s feeling a little better than last night, but that isn’t saying much; it’s possible that it will simply worsen as the day wears on).
On the other hand, the fact that he’s thinking about his next meal suggests he’s in decent shape; a good appetite is a good sign. Then again, to say it’s about his ‘next’ meal is a bit of a misnomer; he’s actually wondering what we’ll be eating twenty-four hours from now. I assure him that we’ll likely eat meals several times between now and then, but he points out that, at home, it’s not even six in the evening. It’s odd to realize that, in the span of those twenty-four hours, it will still be today – and with a good five or six hours yet to go.
***
Once at the airport, another drama unfolds. It seems that the taxes charged on my gift purchases can be refunded, if we present the proper documentation to the authorities at the airport. Unfortunately, it would seem that the purchase receipt is not sufficient documentation, leading to a certain amount of frustration.
The funny thing is, I would’ve been perfectly content with the price I’d paid for them; had I not been told that there might be a refund on a portion of it, I would have been content and none the wiser. As it was, finding out about the refund, only to have it pulled away at the last moment, is what was truly annoying about it.
At the same time, I was informed by a couple who had managed to provide all of the necessary paperwork, only to receive a fraction of the tax they expected back. Now, since I had purchased more than they had, I could have expected a commensurate increase in my refund, but it would have been a pittance compared to the total amount of tax paid, which both of us expected to get back. In the end, no one walks away happy. Even the lady at the tax booth is probably is sick and tired of the innumerable complaints she receives from dissatisfied tourists because of how this works out – or rather, doesn’t.
***
I feel like this letter ought to contain some profound musings on the things we’ve seen and done, honey, but for once, we’re actually taking in the current moment too much to really think about all that. I suppose that’s how people who live here go about their lives; surrounded as they are with the historic and the holy, they just focus on their own day-to-day, and how to get through that, without taking much time to pause and consider what’s all around them. Then again, that must all seem perfectly ordinary to them, since they see it every day. It’s that whole dichotomy between the exotic and the mundane, perhaps; even the most elevated stuff of earth can become humdrum if you’re exposed to it constantly enough.
Likewise, I wonder if this trip doesn’t hit differently for me and Daniel than it would if it felt like a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Odds are, we could be back in a couple of years, barring unforeseen circumstances; hopefully bringing along friends. To a certain extent, it means that we don’t have to be as careful about gathering memories, since we can always pick more up the next time around. Not everyone can say or do that.
That said, I realize that such an attitude is terribly cavalier. We aren’t so much as guaranteed tomorrow, let alone the next couple of years, so to treat the possibility of a future trip as a given is inappropriate. But it’s human nature to assume that, if we survived today, what could tomorrow bring that would be any different? So we can’t help ourselves, until we’re forced to confront that particular reality. Toward that end, I have you to remind me; and even then, it’s not always enough.
So with that in mind, I’d appreciate it if you would continue to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it, as always.
Letters to Rachel 