Going home

My dad dropped me off in downtown Jerusalem and I explored his old neighborhood, Nachlaot. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nachlaot) It used to be called the slums (can’t think of a more PC word), but now has been gentrified. It was a Sephardi/Mizrachi neighborhood with immigrants from Morocco, Yemen, and Kurdistan, among others.

The neighborhood consists of winding, narrow roads. Lots of alleys. Houses made of white Jerusalem stone. A perfect place to wander and get lost. And I had fun wandering.

This is the site of my grandmother’s garden. The place where she pulled up nanna leaves for our tea. I remember this from the 1970s.

This was my grandmother’s house. I have vague memories of her sitting outside, savoring the sun. We spoke to each other in broken bits of language. I attempted Hebrew and she tried English. We were more successful with gestures.

A view to the second floor, where my Aunt and Uncle have lived for over 50 years.

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