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10 Cheshvan 5763 - October 16, 2002 | Mordecai Plaut, director Published Weekly
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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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