The 14 Bus

Back to bus stories and contemplation. In the USA we had two cars. I'm beginning to realize what a luxury this is, as even 12 minutes on public transit to work produces stories and sights that make you wonder.

On one particular day a young mother opened up to me that her son molested her daughter. She didn't report it, rather sent him to boarding school. This is the kind of story that you only read about it books or hear second hand. Needless to say, as nice as she was, I did not exchange numbers with her.

There was another day a child threw up all over the bus. The mother ignored it.

The time a teenager tried to hide her dog and the driver refused to continue. Or the other morning, the bus was so packed, people started to yell at the driver to skip stops (what is legal or not, I'm uncertain of). To my eyes, it was a beautiful thing. A real view of Kibutz Galuyot and just how packed this bus was (I stood way in the front, so being claustrophobic stayed more or less at bay).

An elderly man enters the bus, seats immediately open up.

Groceries roll out of bags, with calls to the driver to wait and keep the door open. 

And then there's a morning like today where one person has terrible body odor and as she exits the bus, another sits down with perfume.

The rhythm of Israel. 
It's fast. 
Diverse and exhausting.
In a good way. 

You can learn a lot in 12 minutes. 

Nothing beats the kindness of hearing someone say תודה הנהג!

The wheels on the bus in Israel, most definitely go round and round.

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