Curious Creatures

This post could be about the cats in Israel - the fact that they are everywhere, but no one's pets. They have public litter boxes, but they have no home. They scavenge the garbage and run from affection. Curious creatures, these cats.

Yet it's not about cats that I'm writing about tonight. Rather, it's about the little tottering old Jewish women. They are also everywhere, seeming to belong to no specific place. Their legs are wrapped up in Ace bandages so it's easy to understand why they inch along down the sidewalk, onto the bus, or in the middle of the market - oblivious of the mass congestion they're causing behind them.

Most of these curious creatures cover their heads as a sign of their faith, and the choice covering is what I call the "80's Easter hat". The fabric prints of their outfits never match, but sometimes they show their fashionable side with some bling. Today on the bus home one of these curious creatures, older than the rest I've observed, had a glittery "Bewitched" t-shirt on. Put together with the white hair, bandaged legs, Easter bonnet, and toddling shuffle - I couldn't help but giggle.

I also giggled at another of these curious creatures on the bus who was very much enjoying the bread she just bought at the market. She would bring it to her mouth to eat like a sub sandwich, and while there was just a little bit hanging out of her mouth, she would take her chubby fore finger and resolutely push the morsel the rest of the way in. She would often glance up at me with a mischevious twinkle in her eyes that practically shouted her enthusiasm for this snack. You see, these other curious creatures either sleep on the bus or scowl as though the entire world has disappointed them beyond repair. To see such enjoyment for something as little as bread was, again, conducive to giggling.

I'm certainly glad that this particular curious creature and I established a nonverbal repor, because in the next few moments the bus lurched and I (not yet having gained my "bus stance" while standing during the bus trip) toppled backwards into her Ace bandaged-wrapped lap.

"Shlixa!" I said, very apologetically (that word can be an apology or an insult depending on how you use it). "Beseder?" which again is a generic term for "fine" or "ok", but all I know are generic terms at this point so I'm supplementing it with all sorts of non verbal behaviour.

"Beseder," she nodded, rubbing her tortured legs.

And then she giggled.