Not that anything unusual actually happened in Israel, but maybe the unusual is really a felt experience than defies words. I always spend most of my time in Jerusalem, that magical city, with its gorgeous pale rocks and jagged forms. I could see the Wall and the Tower of David and the panorama of endless lines of people going to the old city day and night. In Jerusalem, there is a certain spirit, a certain comraderie, so different from New York. In New York, where I work as a theater critic and commentator, people in my profession have little time for real friendship or binding relationships.
People are too busy, it is said.
It is hard to make appointments in New York, there is always something to see, some theater to go to, some event to cover, and one can be busy every day and night. Some people find this invigorating, I find it enervating. In Jerusalem friends are always ready to have a good conversation, over lunch, or dinner, or tea, or to give you a ride to some special place, or even invite you to their house. The pace is slower, more contemplative, less harried. Whatever the reason, Israelites seem open, acessable, informal, and giving, despite the tension and foreboding around them.