My Jerusalem marathon

 I began my day with a friendly vice, the warm sunshine, a companion unobtrusive, right? I walked down to Gan Sacher (where every assault is a sacher tort) and sat on a bench and just soaked up the sun and I'm telling anyone who will listen. What can be better at 8AM than a warm sunbeam and no rush at all. I took a few minutes to reflect. I tought about spirituality. I came to Israel to recharge and that doesn't make sense to everyone. I think that part of it is that I see the pursuit fo the divine is an end AND a means, both the journey and and destination. Someone asked me about my frequent trips to the kotel. What is there to DO there, I was asked. Well, maybe that's just it -- to me, the goal is just to BE there. To be is to do, I guess. Maybe that's what "self-actualization" means. I'm not sure. It is a dumb phrase, "self-actualization," a vile phrase. But if we go looking for an experience maybe we are destined to be disappointed.  Just sitting on that bench is the thing. It isn't a pause on a larger trip, because the moment has its own value as an expression of my being. Or something like that. If we can find a way to make every moment a moment we feel, and every pace a place we experience and not just pass through, maybe that's the point. We just have to know to keep our eyes and souls open to the possibility. Maybe I'm too introspective. I guess I'm just hard wired that way. Maybe Emerson and Thoreau were right. I only wish I had read what they wrote so I'd know.

I need coffee.

Gan Sipor for breakfast. I tried to explain to the waitress that "Americano" isn't the only way to make black coffee. It was exhausting and the weather was just too darned nice to waste energy on it so Americano was the way to go.

I had a spinash frittata and a salad with a very large roll (dare I say a loaf) of whole wheat bread. The waitress warned me that the frittata has a very strong spinach flavor. Duh. That's the point. It was delicious. All in all, it was a fantastic breakfast -- one of the top 10 meals of the day. By the way, you have to look a the bill and then tell the waitress how much you want to tip and it gets added to the bill. Science.

I walked up the path in Gan Sacher until the end which took me to the back entrance of the Knesset. I thought that was neat so I took a picture and then hung around to admire the view. Mistake number 7. Security came out and I was interrogated as to why I took a picture. I explained that I'm a tourist and I take pictures. The guy demanded that I delete it. I was going to point out that there was no sign saying that I couldn't take a picture but his gun was more persuasive than my logic. I figured I was done was but I was wrong because he he beckoned me to follow. I figured my forthrightedness earned me a special audience with his highness and a guided tour of the basement which has all the Vatican's missing stuff, and maybe a free donut. I was wrong. He took me to his supervisor who asked a lot more questions. I explained that I was a tourist, told him where I lived, where I was staying and what I had for breakfast. Strange that he wasn't interested in the spinach frittata. It was a really good frittata. He demanded that I delete the picture. Both the earlier guard and I assured him it was. I showed him the phone and my pictures of Orlando. He wasn't impressed. Tough crowd. He took a picture of my driver's license (which I didn't insist he delete even though I have a strict "no pictures of my license" policy...he also had a gun, you see). We left on good terms. Somewhere in the files of the Knesset, there is a picture of my license. Awesome.

I traced my way back down a little and found the bird observatory. From there I took a picture of the fence.  שק-ית!

The sign that says "bird observatory" should say "and cemetery" because I found that at the end of the path, there is an cemetery  that has great rabbis dead in it. Apparently, there is a guy who is Rabbi מהזוייל or מזוועהיל depending on the sign you read. I still don't know who he is, though.

Back down the hill to back to path. Along the path to the end of the park and then up Rechov Teddy Ruxpin (or David Ruffin, I forget) to Giv'at Ram. I wanted to find the front door of the Knesset so I could take a legal picture and have a chat with the prime minister about the whole situation. There is a fence and a guard post. Next to it is a topiary cut in shape to say "Welcome to the Question" but I'll tell you, mister, to be honest, I didn't feel welcome.

Some guy in a car stopped and asked me for directions. IN HEBREW! Joke's on him -- I'm an idiot!

Across the street into the Israel Museum. First stop, the art garden. Great views and art that I just don't understand. I'm not an art guy, so maybe I don't get a lot of stuff, but some of this is just silly. Anything seems to count as art, including nothing -- I'm not joking about this but there is a piece of art which is called "Space" and there is nothing there. Seriously. I'll post pictures when I get the chance. No joke.

Into the museum, itself and through the exhibit which traced ancient life from about the 14th century BCE to yesterday as measured in glass, coins, burial rites, knives, written language, dishes, mash notes and gardening tools. Archeology people would love this stuff. There were many rooms worth of stuff.

Over to the Contemporary Art section. The first part had stuff from people I have heard of including Kandinsky, Matisse, Picasso, Man Ray, Max Ernst, Magritte, Chagal, Pollock, deKooning, Miro, Arp, Motherwell, Basquiat, Mondrian and VASARELY! and like that. Then there was more recent stuff including a white empty canvas on a black canvas.

There were also occasional expert explanations like the write up of Pollock's Horizontal Composition which explored negative space and movement into eternity. My non expert opinion is that it looked like a neo-cave painting. I'm pretty sure I'm right.

I walked back through one of the special exhibitions which was art and masks from Africa. I wanted to ask a doyenne how often inquire about art from Wakanda but figured that after the Knesset thing they are probably already watching me and didn't want to make things worse. Then to the Shrine of the Book to look at the Dead Sea Scrolls. Magnificent. There is a special exhibition about the Aleppo Codex which was incredible. Eventually I tore myself away and went out to the model of the second temple which is housed in a model of the Holy Land Hotel (old person joke, kids...move along).

I walked all the way back down Shmoopy road, crossed Ben Tzvi and found the stair case behind Kiryat Wolfson. I walked up the approximately 1 millions stairs and ended up in a parking garage. Up two levels of parking garage and I ended up on Diskin, right by building 2 of Kiryat Wolfson. A stroll up KK"L street, looking for memories but all I saw was vague reflections in the faces of children and ancient laundromats.

The real goal of my stroll was to find the SuperPharm at which I could get a PCR test within 72 hours of my return flight. The internet promised that there was a participating retailer in the Mamilla mall so I wanted to check and find out the process. While I walked I did some math. It was 2 PM (ish) on Sunday. 72 hours from then would be 2 PM on Wednesday which is after I leave. INUTHERWERDS I am already within 72 hours so once I confirmed I was in the right place I signed myself up to get a PCR right then and there! I scanned the QR code and filled out the form and waited for the confirmation email (note -- the instructions for filling out the form correctly are next to the testing location which you can't get to until you fill the form out correctly. Hmmm). While I waited, I saw Hope and her roommate and then helped a couple find the form and fill it out. I'm nice like that. I tried to buy a soda but the machine repeatedly rejected my credit card. I can't have my card treated like that, so I paid cash and called the credit card people to ask "what the hey?" They said that all was right with the world and I can blame the store. I comforted my card and kept waiting for the confirmation email. I even re-registered, using a gmail address instead of the yahoo address I first used. I kept waiting. After an hour or so of waiting, I headed back to the pharmacist who initially helped me.

In Israel, you take a number to be served, so I took a number. 56. The digital display was up to 55 so I expected a short wait before I asked "what the hey?" but while I waited a tourist wandered up and started shouting "shalom? shalom?" He got served first, as he was looking for Omega 3 pills that are from Vegan (he pronounced it veh-jan) and not fish sources. Eventually he bought something approximating what he wanted but as he wrapped up, another guy walked up to the counter to thank the pharmacist. I figured I wasn't in a rush and chose not to say anything. He got his PCR results already and wanted to tell the pharmacist that his results came to his gmail account but were stopped in the spam filter, and the yahoo address didn't work at all. I checked and my confirmation email was in the spam filter! I gave the woman waiting with #57 my slip of paper, thanked the guy who butted in and walked to the counter to pay. Had I picked a fight about his butting in, I wouldn't have overheard the answer to my question! A lesson to be learned, but I just don't know what it is.

At check out, I saw Kayla Schwartz's family and said hi. Also Eli Rotenbergs's family. Hi. We made small talk and had our parent-teacher conference there on line. Efficient. I paid (NIS 119) for the test (ON MY CREDIT CARD. SUCK IT bakery) and went downstairs to get the test. I had a picture of my passport handy, the confirmation email handy, my Tav Yarok handy (I have lots of hands) and my nostrils flared for the occasion. A mouth swab and into the nose. Yuck. Repeat. Open up and say ewwww.

Back out and bam, another schnorrer. I gave him my pocket change (which I only had because I had to pay cash for the soda) when he told me that he had to buy food for his children for Channukah. I resisted the need to tell him that a job might be a better path. It was a sunny day and I didn't want to fight. I saw the Cohnens as I moved through Mamilla (mazal tov, Cohnens!). I ducked through Jaffa Gate to use the public facilities but my knees told me that I couldn't handle another trip to the kotel. They were probably right.

Up Yaffo to Ben Yehudah (with a quick stop for fresh hand-machine squeezed pomegranate juice at Cafe de Flore -- it is SO SWEET and yummy) then a hello to the whole Papier family and heading back to Betzalel.

I quick note as I crossed some street or another. There is such a thing as a New York Minute, defined as the time between when the light turns green and when the car behind you honks because you haven't gone yet. The measure in Jerusalem is even shorter. The lights here turn red-yellow right before they turn green and the honking actually begins before the light turns green. That's fast.

I made it back and Nomi helped me plot my journeys on her computer. It turns out I walked about 10 KM in 8 hours. A personal record. Then she deleted the whole thing. There were tears. Next up, candles for Channukah, night #1. Happy, happy, all.