I made it! It was a smooth flight, for the most part. A little ironic, on the one hand I had an entire row to myself, on the other– the only family on the flight (equipped with two sobbing babes. Did you know babies can wail for 9 hours? Without breathing? It's phenomenal) sat right behind me. Right behind me. But I was flying, even if time was not, and I did make it.
Worst homestretch ever. I had to hold the bag close and at an angle to keep it from rolling into my heel. My shoe fell off twice before I figured that out. And this was before I hit the cobblestone. And I hit the cobblestone long before I realized I was going the wrong way. Anyway: Lots of breaks. Lots of sweating. No swag.
It must have been glaringly obvious that I was confused. That I was harrowed. That I was a new. The taxi driver lifted his eyebrows as I staggered out of the airport. Even before I stepped onto the sidewalk, he was walking over to me. He hovered an arm over my shoulders, speaking like I do to small children who have left shoes on right feet, or shirts on backwards, "My dear, where are you going?"
Anyway, many thanks to that taxi driver. He was gracious and his resourceful driving techniques got me to JUC just in time to hit the ground running with a tour of the Old City.
That was incredible: the upper room. Neon cauliflower. The site where Jesus' tomb [most likely] was. Rooftop view of Jerusalem. Incredible and strange. Last night I was clearing the snow off Stark Rd.'s pond to go ice skating. Tonight the Dome of the Rock is in my backyard.
Maybe I was ice skating two nights ago. I'm pretty confused– my head is furry, trying to figure out which hour it wants to be in. Nothing like a kick in the teeth from jet lag!
Blessings all, thank you for reading [there will be photos with the next post!]
M
