Running from the Arab-Israeli cab driver.

  On Wednesday I traveled to the Kotel to say Kaddish for my grandma. The trip started with me getting on the wrong bus. One thing about being in a foreign country is you can't be afraid to ask for help. After asking to nice Israeli school girls where to go, I got off at the next stop, and ended up at American shopping street Mamila. I hate Mamila because of the expensive snobby American stores, however Mamila is the most direct rout to the old city. I was on a tight schedule, and decided it was zig zag through the crowd on my skateboard was necessary. I continued skateboarding through the old city, gaining tons of speed on the long smooth hill that leads to the wailing wall's entrance. When I got to the wall, the security was crazy, because Golani (the northern unit of the IDF) was having their swearing in ceremony. They hassled me about my board, so I had to hide it in between two Jerusalem stones.

 There were videos of Golani soldiers chanting and screaming on training missions, and it was then that I decided that the Israeli Army may be to strenuous for me. I believe I could endure the training, but the intensity of a unit like Golani might be to much. We shall see.

I said Kaddish and said a few prayers for my grandma, and headed towards the exit of the Kotel. The old city can be a chaotic place, especially where west meets east. You can literally feel the tension between cultures. East Jerusalem residents (Israeli Arabs) are everywhere, and so are the Israeli police.

 I found a cab driver who agreed to take me back to 8 Gad for "40" shekels, although I told him I only had ten American dollars to spend. When we got the end of Gad street, the meter read 42 shekels. I gave him the ten America dollars, and told him the exchange rate is about four shekel for every one dollar. He did not understand, and preceded to yell at me. Lucky for me, the cab driver then spotted a blond european tourist, and called him over to ask what the exchange rate was. The tourist had no idea what he was talking about, and answered back in euros. My lucky break, I grabbed my board, and hustled out of the cab. The driver spotted me half way down the block, and proceeded to drive after me while yelling "where are you going!?". I ran into an ally James Bond style, and knelt behind a bush until he passed. Close call! Lesson of this story: Never get into a cab unless you have a fixed price.


This is actually a picture of the Tzamchanim's(paratroopers) ceremony, which I saw the next night. The soldiers march for a very long time before getting to the Kotel. At the ceremony they swear to give their life Israel, and officially get their guns. There are usually about 400 plus soldiers and their families.