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THE FLAVOR OF NOSTALGIA
A lingering whiff of festival air before we huddle into our
winter hibernation
Geula
by A. Reader
Anyone who has ever been to Jerusalem has surely been to
Geula and Meah Shearim. They have walked down the busy,
bustling, narrow streets which were built for horse and cart,
not for innumerable cars and trucks. They have been elbowed
amongst the crowds of people speaking a medley of languages;
they have been pushed, jostled and even stepped on as if they
were invisible. I doubt if there are many people who are not
fascinated by the place, even if they find the shopping there
a little exhausting.
But they may not have noticed that Geula is a calendar, an
advance notice for each coming season. In England and in
America, the seasons are heralded by the change in weather.
In Israel, the shops, particularly in Geula, presage the
change in seasons.
If we begin with Tishrei, to be in Geula and Meah Shearim is
an incredible experience. All of your five senses are aroused
and perhaps the sixth sense, too. The noise! Is it harmony or
cacophony? Chickens for kapporos waiting to be
assigned a buyer, squawking loudly. Their handlers, usually
young boys, drawing attention to their presence. Seasonal
music blaring which makes you want to quicken your step, but
it remains a wish. The throngs of people obstruct your
progress. A loudspeaker from inside a car, appealing for
funds for some desperate soul who needs a kidney transplant.
In the background you can hear the hammering of the `early
birds' erecting their succos somewhere above your
head, in improbable, unlikely places, and for the `late
birds,' New Year cards, visiting-card size and three-D
versions, still glittering on table stands.
Traffic, of course, is going at a snail's pace with impatient
drivers hooting to let out their frustration. Then the
sights which greet your eyes! Streamers strung across the
streets announcing the sale of s'chach. Numerous
crates of the aforementioned hens at various street corners.
Stalls set up in the most inconvenient (for the pedestrian)
places, selling everything and anything. The succa
decorations are the same as those used in London and New York
etc. for the 25th of December, but people are unaware of the
significance of the little white bearded man with the red
suit, and the trade is brisk. Strangely, every second shop
has turned into a warehouse for arba'a minim. Black-
hatted men with long curly payos examine the
merchandise meticulously, Young women, naturally beautiful in
their true goodness and purity of heart which show on every
feature, are shopping, with half-a-dozen children in tow. And
Yiddish, English, French, Spanish, Russian and Hebrew are in
the air.
There are stalls sporting canvas sneakers of every size and
shape for Yom Kippur. An enterprising vendor of collapsible
Succos furniture has opened up a bed and table on the
sidewalk. Admittedly, pedestrians all have to step onto the
road to pass his `stall,' but why not? The traffic is at a
standstill, anyway. And if jostled too hard, you have what to
fall back on.
The olfactory sense is stimulated, too. Smells of fresh
popcorn and pizza mixed with the heady smell of
esrogim. Delicious smells, affirming the women's
culinary expertise, waft down the narrow streets.
Unfortunatley, there is also an occasional whiff of sewers
which, like the roads, were not meant for the heavy use to
which they are subjected.
*
Kislev is still a long way away, but with Tishrei past, the
stalls preempt the displays of various types of oil, numerous
wicks of all qualities, chanukiyos and, of course,
glasses to put on top of them. Glass showcase boxes of
various shapes and sizes to house the chanukiyos
[`menoras,' still, to newcomer chutznikim], since most
people light outside their houses, in the entranceways to
buildings, and the flames would be extinguished from winter
winds without the protection of these boxes. This time, the
unmistakable smell of sufganiyot, sugar-sprinkled
jelly doughnuts, fills the air. In former years, the
appearance of these doughnuts meant the exit of ice cream
from all shops, but nowadays, with the profusion of `crazy'
foreigners and their crazy taste for ice cream all year
round, the shops still stock this out-of- season sweet during
the winter months.
The magnificent displays of dried fruit are a sure indication
of the coming of Tu Bishvat, well in advance. The festival of
the Seven Species of Eretz Yisroel, but with much of the
dried fruit actually heralding from Turkey or California.
This is followed by a plethora of fancy dress and fancy food
baskets, with or without contents, wine bottles ranging from
Tom Thumb to Gulliver size, cellophane of all colors and lots
of tinsel, presumably left over from Succos decoration. Book
shops or confectionery stores seem to change overnight to
accommodate the new demands, as they did when they were
selling arba'a minim, marching ahead of the changing
seasons.
I personally never tire of these sights and smells and
sounds. It is a wonderful feeling to be among hundreds, or
maybe thousands, of people who are busy preparing for Yom
Tov, be it Pesach or Succos. May Hashem let us all live in
peace and harmony until each successive Shehechiyonu
occasion -- until the coming of Moshiach, speedily this
season!
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