Living in Israel (standard:adventure, 1841 words)
Author: giborim	Added: Apr 17 2003	Views/Reads: 3420/2230	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
My trip through the forbidden side of the arab quarter in Israel.

That indistinguishable smell.  I inhaled real deep so I could try and
discern the spices, but every time I tried, I just coughed and coughed. 
 It was the kind of strong smell you could taste, like smelling curry 
for the first time.  A strong smell that I could almost taste but had 
no memory to connect the smell to.    I didn't know why this side of 
the road had such a pungent odor.  "What is that smell?"  I whispered 
to Randy, who obviously was not as concerned with the smell as with the 
danger that we had been warned about. He shook off my question without 
even looking my way. I felt as though I was in a movie.  The 
cobblestone, thousands of years old, under my feet was uneven and not 
maintained. 

I stuck close to Randy, not wanting to be all alone on the "wrong side
of town".  Our teachers had warned us that it wouldn't be safe for us 
to go to the Arab market.  “For thousands of years millions had fought 
and died for this city and two more post adolescents would faze no 
one.”  Dov lectured to us.  The stern warning we had been given by our 
teachers not to walk to the Arab sector in the old city of Jerusalem 
did nothing to dissuade us. 

Even with the fighting in Israel, my parents had let me go.  I was a
senior in high school and I had heard of school in the holy land.  The 
land seemed to hold some dangerous mystery for me.  There are only a 
few times where I really felt in danger. I the most danger I ever saw 
was when I was walking in the Arab quarter with Randy. Randy was a 
strong guy.  The kind of guy you knew would go into the armed forces 
even before he told you (he ended up going to the marines).  Randy's 
fearlessness was contagious.  Turning down the proposal to wander into 
the forbidden quarter seemed impossible.  The feeling of protection he 
radiated was intoxicating.  If I had to choose Randy or twenty secret 
service agents I would have chosen Randy.   My parents would kill me if 
they knew; now I realize they would have every right to.  Two high 
school kids walking around with big Jewish stars on their necks and 
screaming tourists, American tourists none the less. 

Being the young hot-blooded teens we were we proceeded through the Arab
quarter.  Immediately when we entered I noticed a man probably a decade 
older than we were leaning against the wall looking disbelief that we 
would enter his alleyway.  I gathered from the faces surrounding me 
that this was the general consensus.  Randy had a big silver Jewish 
star that he proudly wore around his neck and I also had a Jewish star, 
smaller but visible around my neck. 

The seven-year-old boy we encountered was the first person to stop us. 
He immediately jumped in front of our path taking us both by surprise.  
We looked down at the boy with dark black hair and dark olive skin.  It 
struck me how generically Arab he looked.  He seemed right out of the 
postcard, which turned out to be ironic because he promptly muttered 
something and began showing us postcards.  After the initial shock I 
realized that this little boy was trying to sell us postcards.  We 
tried to walk past him, but he kept on following and muttering in what 
I at first assumed was Arabic, but then realized was Hebrew, something 
about the postcards.  Randy stopped and told the boy we weren't 
interested in English, the only language either of us felt comfortable 
speaking.  And then the seven year old, displaying his third language 
in two minutes, said sternly, “Two dollars”.   Randy tried again to 
tell him we didn't want any but the little boy, whose name was im sure 
some generic Arabic name, kept on persisting. 

I studied the boy and noticed he had what seemed like a scar on his
cheek from what I could only imagine.  He was also wearing tattered 
shorts and a T-shirt that said something in Arabic and appeared to be 
one of those t-shirts you buy when you visit a new city, a total 
tourist trap T-shirt.  Expecting to see one of those save the children 
men turning the corner any moment I felt guilty and gave the kid two 
bucks for some postcards.  The postcards, which I knew I never wanted, 
are still located in a drawer in my desk.  Randy seemed very 
disappointed that I had given in to such a little boy.  “I felt bad.” I 
whispered, “It was only two dollars”. 

As we progressed down the hallway I realized it seemed so dark due to
the closeness of the awnings in front of the stores.  Each store, and I 
use the term loosely, consisted of a hallway that was the indoor part 
and an overhang that stretched just far enough to touch the overhang of 
the store across the walkway blocking out any hope of sunlight or fresh 


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